


Camp Amber Lake

by Winnywriter



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Summer Camp, M/M, Sabriel Minibang 2013
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-14
Updated: 2013-11-14
Packaged: 2018-01-01 14:01:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 24,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1044793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winnywriter/pseuds/Winnywriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Camp Amber Lake has everything anyone could ever want in a summer camp: archery, canoes, hiking, camp fires, and so much more that Sam never found in any of the brochures. But he never expected to meet someone like Trickster, and never would have dreamed that they'd be anything close to friends. Well, it's a summer of surprises for everyone, and when Sam and the troublemaking Trickster are forced together by a prank gone wrong, he finds that there might be more to the older camper than he thought at first glance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My entry for the 2013 Sabriel minibang.
> 
> Art by the lovely paxilam [here!](http://paxilam.livejournal.com/25786.html)

Sam was practically vibrating with excitement as Dean turned the Impala down the dirt road, following the wooden sign nailed to the tree by the turn that read: THIS WAY TO CHECK-IN. He was trying not to let it show, but Dean seemed to pick up on it anyway, and his older brother smirked. “Excited?”

 

“Huh? Oh, yeah, I guess,” Sam muttered, staring out the window the whole time, watching tight-packed trees pass them by and trying to glimpse the cabins or the lake through the gaps between them.

 

“Yeah, okay Sammy. You're cool as a cucumber. I get it,” he patted Sam on the arm, “Sure you're not gonna miss me?”

 

Sam scoffed, “Of course not, jerk!”

 

“Aww, c'mon, admit it! You're totally gonna miss your big brother!”

 

“I'm not a baby, you know. I'm fifteen. I don't get homesick.”

 

Dean rolled his eyes, returning his hands to the wheel as he turned the corner and followed the directions of a peppy-looking counselor in a bright green shirt that proclaimed, “Camp Amber Lake” to pull into a gravel parking lot. Sam was out of the car before Dean had even put it in park, stretching his long legs and taking a deep breath of fresh woods-scented air.

 

“Yeah, you're not excited,” Dean chuckled as he leaned against the roof of the car, tapping it with his palm. “C'mon, get your bags. I'm not carrying those things all the way to your cabin.”

 

It was a pleasantly cool day for June, but Sam was still sweating by the time he made it to his cabin. They were all named after birds, and his was Eagle, right between Bluebird and Hawk. “At least you didn't get stuck with Hummingbird,” Dean said as he plopped Sam's duffel bags onto his mattress, and he slapped a palm against his arm with a grimace. “Geez, I swear to God I'm like a mosquito magnet. How are you gonna stand them for three weeks?”

 

“I have protection,” Sam said, pulling out a bottle of the most heavy-duty bug spray he'd been able to find. He tossed it to Dean, who gave it right back.

 

“Nah, you keep it. You're the one who's gonna be trekking through the forests and all. I just have to make it back to the car.” They slipped into silence, and Dean leaned against the wooden ladder that led up to the top bunk above his head. “Remember to wear sunscreen, okay? I don't want you coming home looking like a damn tomato.”

 

“I will, Dean.”

 

“And brush your teeth, alright? You get stank breath when you don't.”

 

Sam chuckled, “Okay.”

 

“And I swear I'll make you pay if you don't write me-”

 

“Aww...,” Sam crooned, “You're gonna miss me, aren't you?”

 

“Miss having my pain-in-the-ass little brother running around the house for almost a month?” Dean rolled his eyes, “Please.” Sam ignored him and wrapped his arms around Dean's shoulders, pulling him close for a tight hug. He felt Dean laugh, his chest rattling with it. “Alright, alright...am I gonna have to move you to one of the girl's cabins or something?”

 

“Shut up,” Sam said, and whacked him on the chest. Dean mussed up his long hair, solely because he knew Sam hated it.

 

“Come home taller than me and I'm gonna kick your skinny little ass.”

 

“Like you could.” Dean punched him in the arm. “Ow! Jerk!”

 

“Bitch,” Dean said affectionately, “You alright to unpack on your own?”

 

Sam looked over at his duffels and backpack, shrugging, “I think I can manage. Not too hard to move my underwear from a bag to a drawer, you know.”

 

“Yeah, and I don't want to go anywhere near your gross underwear,” Dean headed for the door, a little reluctantly, “Alright...I guess I'll...just go, okay?”

 

Trying to convince himself that he wasn't going to miss his big brother was starting to get a little exhausting, so Sam nodded and busied himself with the zipper of one of his bags as Dean slipped out the door. “Send postcards, Sammy,” he called, smiling.

 

And just like that, he was sitting alone in the room, staring up at the bottom of the upper bunk and trying to figure out what he was going to do with himself for the next three weeks. The beginnings of a vague sort of homesickness gnawed at his guts, but he tamped it down; it would fade when he actually had something to do other than unpacking and someone to talk to besides the fly staring at him from the opposite wall.

 

Sighing, he stood, scuffing the soles of his sneakers against the rough wood floor. The room was small, one of five on the hallway and directly across from the bathroom. On the other side of the common area in the center of the cabin was another hall with five more rooms and another door leading into the bathroom from the opposite side. Sam ducked into the bathroom and looked it over; the five showers for the twenty cabin residents – two to every room – and a line of six toilet stalls were all that he found, plus four sinks that looked old and stained in places, but clean. A long mirror stretched across the length of the bathroom, and he gave his reflection a good once-over, straightening his hair a bit and pulling the sweaty strands away from his forehead.

 

His hand brushed against his pocket and he froze, his heart giving a terrified lurch against his ribs. Shoving his hand inside only confirmed what he'd feared: it was empty. He knew he'd had it there on the ride up...it must have fallen out in the car or, God forbid, somewhere in the grass on the way up to the cabin. Sweating even more now, but no longer because of the heat, Sam bolted outside and down the stairs, sprinting toward the parking lot.

 

He was vaguely aware of ramming into somebody who was several inches shorter than he was, feeling them stagger backwards with an angry cry, but he didn't pay it any mind for the moment. Apologies could wait. He was down by the parked cars again in no time, eyes scanning desperately for any sign of the Impala or Dean.

 

His brother was leaning up against his car, a thin string of metal dangling from between his fingers and glinting in the sunlight as he grinned knowingly. “Forgot something,” Dean said. Sam took it, feeling it safe in his palm again and letting his heart beat finally slow. “You gotta be more careful, Sammy.”

 

“Where was it?” Sam breathed raggedly.

 

“Right by Baby's tire,” Dean answered, kicking the hard rubber with his heel, “Almost didn't see it, but I figured you'd be back for it...You sure you don't want me to keep it safe for you while you're here?”

 

“No, I want to keep it with me.” Sam looked down at the coiled silver chain in his hand, a single sapphire gleaming in a teardrop-shaped setting beside the base of his thumb. “I'll keep it in my cabin, in the bottom of my bag. It'll be fine. I want to keep it...”

 

Dean's hand found its way to Sam's shoulder, fingers squeezing until Sam looked up at him. “Just...you make sure to keep that thing safe, alright?” Sam nodded, and it was Dean's turn to sigh again. “Sure you're gonna be okay?”

 

Sam managed a smile, “You don't need to worry about me.”

 

“I'm your big brother,” Dean reminded him with a shrug, “Course I gotta worry about you.”

 

Sam slipped the necklace into his pocket again, the pads of his fingers lingering against it a few moments before letting go. “Send care packages, okay?”

 

“Sunflower seeds and Twizzlers. I remember, Sammy.”

 

“You better,” Sam said. Dean chuckled and rolled his eyes as he got into the car.

 

Sam watched him go, the sleek black body of the Impala disappearing down the gravel road again, and he turned back toward the path leading up to the cabins, only to be stopped by a boy with sandy blond hair and a sour expression etched onto his face. “Gonna learn to watch where you're going, sasquatch?” he demanded, brow furrowing in frustration. Sam thought he seemed familiar...it took him a moment or two to recognize him as the guy he'd plowed into in his haste to get back to the car.

 

“Sorry...it was an emergency,” he offered, but the boy didn't seem appeased.

 

“Emergency...whatever. You forget your lucky pair of undies or something?” He held up a hand before Sam even got a chance to come up with any sort of answer. “You know what? Forget it. I don't care. Just don't knock me on my ass again, got it? I bruise easy.” He turned, huffing, and Sam could only blink as he made his way up the path, turning at the fork and walking in the opposite direction from Eagle Cabin. Maybe it was for the best that they wouldn't be sharing any close quarters.

 

By the time he got back to his cabin and headed down the left hall, he could hear noises from inside his room. The door was cracked a bit, and when he pushed it open, the figure that was hunched over the bottom mattress abruptly straightened up and knocked his head against the upper bed frame. Clutching the back of his head in his hands, he turned; he was a wisp of a boy, short in stature and skinny, with black-framed glasses perched on the bridge of his somewhat large nose. “Sorry,” Sam said, fighting back a chuckle even as he spoke, “Didn't mean to scare you.”

 

“S'fine,” the boy said, and he pulled his hands away from his short-cropped dark hair to hold one out, “I'm Barry. Barry Cook.” Sam smiled as he shook his hand.

 

“I'm Sam. I guess you're my roommate?”

 

Barry smiled nervously, “Yeah...do you mind taking the top bunk? I don't really like heights...”

 

Sam glanced up at the top bunk and shrugged. “I guess,” he said. It would be a pain, going up and down that ladder every night, but at least he'd have a good view of the small room.

 

Sam and Barry went to dinner together at around six o'clock. At least it felt like six. Sam had neglected to pack his watch, and the only clock in the cabin ran on batteries that seemed to be dead. He didn't much care, really; it was nice to live by his body's internal clock and the movement of the sun for a bit, but he was eager to eat.

 

Dinner was spaghetti and meatballs, and Sam knew within seconds of taking his first bite after sitting down that he'd be going back for seconds as soon as he was allowed. According to the camp rules – which were posted conveniently by the entrance to the building – he'd have to wait until everyone had gone through the food line. People had been arriving all day, and the cafeteria was growing more crowded by the second.

 

The sandy-haired guy from earlier that day caught Sam's eye when he paused in his eating and looked across the tables; he was sitting by the window, alone, from what Sam could tell, chugging a glass of chocolate milk. “Hey Barry,” Sam said, nudging him. “Do you know that guy?”

 

Barry adjusted his glasses and squinted. “The one who's putting away that chocolate milk like he hasn't drunk in days?” Sam nodded, and Barry shook his head. “Never seen him before. Why?”

 

“Dunno,” Sam said with a shrug. He supposed it had been a long shot anyway. “Just...I ran into him earlier. Never got his name.”

 

Barry seemed like he was about to speak again when he was abruptly cut off, a hand appearing from seemingly out of nowhere and yanking his garlic bread from his plate. A heavyset boy with messy brown hair squinted at them, the piece of bread between his thick fingers. “Hey, give that back!” Sam barked, starting to stand.

 

“Who's gonna make me?” the kid asked. “You?” He started to walk away, but Sam stood up, swinging his leg over the bench and stalking toward you.

 

“I said give it back, jerk!”

 

“What?” He pointed to the bread. “You want this?”

 

“It's not for me,” Sam said, nodding toward Barry. “It's his. Give it back to him.”

 

“It's okay...” Barry squeaked, but Sam didn't sit down again; Barry's hunched posture and downcast eyes said more than enough about how much of this he'd experienced in the past, and Sam was having none of it.

 

“No it's not!” he insisted. People were turning to look at them, but Sam ignored them. It was only out of the corner of his eye that he saw the sandy-haired guy from earlier walking toward them.

 

“Is this really how you get your kicks?” he asked, and both Sam and the bully looked over at him. “Taking food from innocent kids? What's next, stealing candy from babies? Kicking puppies? What's your name, anyway?”

 

“Dirk,” the boy said, “What's it to you?”

 

The sandy-haired boy rocked back on his heels, arching his eyebrows cooly. “Well, Dirk...You heard the sasquatch there.” He nodded toward Sam. “Gonna give it back or not?”

 

Dirk just grinned, scoffing and holding up the bread for all of them to see before promptly spitting on it. “Still want it?” he taunted, and Sam rolled his eyes. He sat back down with a huff, not saying a word. “Thought so,” Dirk cackled, and he sauntered away, leaving Sam seething and Barry staring down at his plate. The sandy-haired boy barely seemed fazed, but he merely sighed.

 

“They never change...” he breathed, arms crossed over his chest. “Can't blame a guy for trying.”

 

“Thanks,” Sam mumbled, not looking up at him. “For trying...”

 

A pair of hands slapped down on his shoulders. “Aww, don't look so glum, Tarzan. Dirk the jerk ain't gonna bother you anymore.”

 

Barry arched an eyebrow at him, asking hesitantly, “How do you know?” Sandy-hair just shrugged, as if trying to look innocent.

 

“I just know. They don't call me Trickster around here for nothing.”

 

He was gone before Sam could work out what he meant, and after a moment, he grabbed his bread off of his own plate and plopped it onto Barry's. “You can have mine.”

 

“It's alri-”

 

“No, seriously. Take it. I'm gonna get seconds as soon as I can anyway. I'll get more.”

 

Barry smiled, shyly. “Thanks, Sam.” He bit into the bread.

 

* * *

 

It was late, and Sam was sound asleep when a terrified, high-pitched scream ripped through the night air. He scrambled awake, and Barry was sleepily putting on his glasses when he finally managed to climb down from the top bunk and peer out the screen-covered window. It was dark out, and he couldn't see a thing, so he tugged on Barry's sleeve, saying, “Come on!”

 

They joined a small crowd that had formed on the steps of Eagle Cabin, peering groggily down the path that led to the other cabins. Out of Vulture Cabin came a figure, running like crazy down the path, limbs flailing. It took only a moment to realize it was Dirk, in nothing but his underwear, quivering on the gravel. “Snake!” he cried, his voice cracking, “There's a- there's a snake in my bed! In my bed!”

 

The counselors were trying to herd everyone back inside the cabins, but Sam slipped away, down the steps and around toward the back of Eagle Cabin when his eye caught another, smaller figure disappearing out the back exit from Vulture Cabin. He followed through the shadows, going unnoticed in the dark, until he came upon the sandy-haired boy from earlier – Trickster, he'd said he was called – hunched by a tree behind the cabins, something draped over his palms as he snickered to himself. It took just a moment to realize that it was a snake.

 

“Don't worry,” Trickster said when he noticed Sam. “She's harmless. Just a little black snake. Nothing to be scared of.” He giggled. “But Dirk sure didn't know that, did he?”

 

“That was you,” Sam said, “You put a snake in his bed? Why the hell would you-”

 

“It's only fair.” Trickster knelt down, placing the snake gently at the base of one of the trees. “He fucks with innocent campers, I make him piss his undies. Don't act like you're not impressed.”

 

Sam watched as the black snake disappeared between the roots of the tree. “You're insane,” he breathed, but Trickster smirked at him.

 

“And you're smiling.” It took Sam a moment or two to realize that he was right. “Don't worry. I won't tell anyone you share my sick sense of humor.”

 

“I almost feel sort of bad for Dirk,” Sam said after a moment, looking back as a counselor draped a towel over Dirk's shoulders and led him back inside.

 

Trickster quirked an eyebrow, “Really?”

 

“I said almost.” Sam grinned, and Trickster laughed, covering his mouth quickly to muffle it. A moment later, he was holding a hand out toward him, and Sam blinked at it.

 

“You're supposed to shake it,” Trickster told him. “Or were you actually raised by apes, Tarzan?” Slowly, Sam took the hand, shaking it.

 

“My name is Sam,” he corrected. “Raised by humans, for as long as I can remember anyway.” He let go, and furrowed his brow curiously. “What's your name?”

 

“Trickster.”

 

Sam chuckled. “Your actual name.”

 

“That is my name. It might not be what's on my birth certificate, but it's what people call me. And it's what you better call me too if you don't want your pillowcase filled with spiders.”

 

Sam's eyes widened his voice tighter than he would have liked it to be as he asked, “Would you really...?”

 

Trickster – Sam supposed he wasn't going to be able to call him anything else – raised a finger. “Don't test me, sasquatch.”

 

“Sam.”

 

He shrugged. “Still look like a sasquatch to me.” He turned, heading back toward the other cabins.

 

“Where are you living, anyway?” Sam asked, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You know, so I can stay clear in case you decide to get back at me for knocking you over earlier.”

 

“Even I can manage a little forgiveness sometimes,” Trickster informed him. “I'm stuck in Duck Cabin for the next three weeks. All the way down at the end of the row, so you shouldn't have any trouble giving it a wide berth.” He turned to leave, but paused a moment later. “Oh! And tell anyone you saw me here, and I'll make sure you regret it. Capiche?” He arched one eyebrow.

 

“Yeah. I...capiche.”

 

Trickster smirked enthusiastically, turning and disappearing into the dark, as if he'd vanished right before Sam's eyes. It was just the tiniest bit disconcerting, if he had to be honest. He went back to his cabin, quietly sneaking back to his room.

 

He carefully looked inside both pillow cases before lying down, just to be safe.

 

* * *

 

Monday morning saw Sam in his swim trunks, leaning on the chain link fence that surrounded the pool as he watched the other campers before him swim up the lanes and back again. The names went by quickly: Collins, Harris, Olsson, Sheppard...all the way down to Winchester.

 

Sam made his way forward, sitting down on the edge of the pool and dipping his legs in. After a breath, he slipped into the water, hissing when the chill of it surrounded him up to the waist. He dunked himself under, lingering there a few moments until he felt himself starting to acclimate, and then he was off, following the line at the bottom of the pool to the opposite edge.

 

He'd always loved swimming, and even though it was just a swim test, he found himself enjoying the feeling of his body cutting through the water, the welcoming coolness enveloping his arms again and again with every stroke. He turned at the opposite edge of the pool, twisting his body around effortlessly and making it back to the start faster than he'd thought he would.

 

“Nice time, Winchester,” the brown-haired counselor leaning over the edge said as he tapped the concrete rim. “Maybe the fastest today.” She marked his name on her clip board after ushering him toward the ladder.

 

He grabbed a towel from the bench near the gate, drying off his hair. The world was still obscured by scratchy fabric when a voice chimed in behind him, “You're a regular fish, aren't you?” He pulled the towel off, letting it brush the tops of his feet as he turned. Trickster was leaning against the gate, eyes traveling up and down his bare chest before meeting his eyes. A lollipop was tucked against the inside of his cheek, the stick poking from between his lips.

 

Sam gave him a once-over too, noticing quickly that Trickster was dressed in a normal T-shirt and cargo shorts, and his hair was still dry. “Aren't you taking the test?” Sam asked.

 

Trickster shook his head. “I don't do water. Been coming here for three years now, and I've never set foot in that pool. And I don't mind keeping it that way one bit.”

 

“You can't swim?” It seemed the wrong thing to ask, and he regretted it when he saw that Trickster seemed uncomfortable, shifting his weight between his feet. He shrugged it off a moment later.

 

“I just don't,” he said, and Sam looked back down at his towel, wiping off his arms and chest. “Doesn't mean I don't have fun, though. I bet I could kick your ass at archery. Actually, let me rephrase that...I know I could kick your ass at archery.”

 

Sam found himself grinning at that. “I'm not going to believe that until you prove it, you know,” Sam told him, and Trickster arched one lazy eyebrow, grabbing the lollipop stick between two fingers and twirling it against his cheek as he turned and sauntered away with merely a hum. Sam thought it might be a promise, or perhaps a challenge.

 

* * *

 

“Archery?” Barry asked across his sandwich at lunch. “I didn't think you'd be into archery.”

 

Sam shrugged and pushed his macaroni and cheese around the bowl. “I've never done it, really. But it could be fun. You should try it with me.”

 

“S'okay. There's a Dungeons and Dragons group meeting today after lunch. I thought I might go check them out,” Barry looked sheepish, but Sam grinned at him.

 

“D and D? Really?”

 

“I know it's kind of lame...”

 

“No, it's awesome! My brother loves it. Don't tell him I told you, though. He'd tar and feather me or something equally as brutal.” Barry smiled at that, widely. Sam took a thoughtful bite of his food and chewed a little wistfully. “I don't know...it's my first time at a real summer camp, you know? I just want to make the most of it.” Since he wasn't sure if he'd ever get the chance to feel this normal again, he thought, but he kept the addendum to himself.

 

He looked around, not seeing Trickster at any of the tables, though they'd gotten to the cafeteria later, after the largest crowds had already gone, so it was completely possible that he had already left before they'd even sat down. There was something about him that fascinated Sam, though he couldn't even begin to place what it was. Maybe it was the snark, or the easy way he moved, or maybe it was simply because he couldn't deny that the look on Dirk's face after his encounter with the snake had been more satisfyingly entertaining that he cared to admit.

 

Three years Trickster had said he'd been coming to Camp Amber Lake. Sam wondered just how many of his tricks he'd missed.

 

* * *

 

The archery range was near the edge of the woods, with the sparkling water of the lake visible just through the tree line opposite the targets. Sam could make out a few canoes out on the water, and though the idea of paddling a small boat out across the waves didn't appeal to him much, he resolved to try it at least once before his three weeks at camp was up. It seemed that archery was one of the more popular activities of the day as there was already a small crowd when he got there. The targets were riddled with arrow holes, though the net behind them seemed to have caught more of the arrows than the targets had themselves. Even as he watched, three more lodged themselves in the mesh.

 

He absently chewed on the roll he'd managed to snatch from the cafeteria on his way out, only pausing when he heard footsteps approaching behind him. “Amateurs,” a voice said, and Sam already knew who it belonged to before he turned to look. Trickster smirked at him, hands on his hips, one eyebrow lazily raised as he glanced back over at the campers wielding the bows.

 

“I don't think anyone expects to find the next Hawkeye at a summer camp,” Sam said around a mouthful of bread with a slight chuckle.

 

“You're still eating,” Trickster said with a grin. “I knew you could put away spaghetti like a pro, but geez! As skinny as you are, you must have the metabolism of a gerbil.”

 

Sam swallowed a fought back a slight blush. “I can't help it, alright? I'm in the middle of a growth spurt.”

 

“Looks like you've already hit one or five,” Trickster's eyes scanned up and down Sam's thin, lanky frame, “How tall are you anyway?”

 

“Five eleven,” Sam answered, “My big brother's six one and I'm determined to catch up.”

 

“Doesn't look like that'll be hard.” Trickster stretched absently, his stomach poking out from under his T-shirt a bit as he did, before he tugged it back down. “Sweet victory!” it proclaimed in red and white candy-striped lettering. “Didja come to see my archery skills?”

 

“Actually, I came to test out mine,” Sam said, smirking, and Trickster chuckled, pointing at him.

 

“I like you,” he said, and he went to pick up a bow.

 

Sam watched as Trickster gingerly attached his arm guard, turning away from the counselor who offered him help. “I know how to do it,” he heard him say, and it seemed he was right. He had no trouble putting it on and getting it into position. Right hand clutched tightly around the bow, he smoothly nocked the arrow and held the bow up, aiming straight for the target.

 

He drew the string back, and Sam saw him pause, taking a breath: in...out...in...he let the arrow fly.

 

It buried itself with a dull thunk in the target, just to the right of the center, and Trickster growled. “I'm rusty,” he sighed, rolling his shoulders and reaching for another arrow.

 

He grinned as Sam stepped up beside him. The counselor on duty – a bubbly blonde girl who was probably no older than eighteen – helped him attach his arm guard. It felt strange and unyielding against his arm, trapping sweat against his skin, and he scratched at it. “You ever even fired a bow before?” Trickster asked him, grinning knowingly as he nocked another arrow and drew his arm back once more.

 

“Course I have,” Sam mumbled, and he copied Trickster's actions, bow held in his left hand instead of his right. His movements were more clumsy, and it took him three tries to get the arrow to settle into the groove at the front of the bow. Trickster giggled at him. He ignored it.

 

He could feel those amber eyes on him as he held up his bow, aiming for the target and hoping that his arrow would stay straight as he pulled the bowstring back slowly. Taking a breath, he let it fly, and despite not being too surprised, he was more than a little disappointed when it flew past the target and got caught in the net in front of the trees.

 

Trickster laughed, and Sam glared at him. “Hey, I'm not judging! I was a newbie once too, you know.” As he spoke, he raised another arrow, let it go. This one hit the center of the target, and he let out a victory cry.

 

Sam just grabbed another arrow. “Okay, so maybe I haven't fired an arrow in...ever.”

 

“I kinda figured,” Trickster said, and he shrugged. “I bet you could hold your breath longer, though.” Sam laughed at that, as he carefully got his second arrow into position. “Hold your elbow up more.”

 

“What?”

 

Suddenly, Trickster was by his side, his hand on Sam's arm, pushing it up. “Don't let it dip. All your shots will be shit if you do-”

 

“Trickster,” the blonde counselor chastised, sending him a warning glance as she looked over from helping one of the younger campers fix her stance. “How many times do I have to tell you not to use that kind of language around here?”

 

Trickster rolled his eyes, but grinned sweetly. “Sorry, Becky,” he said, and he put on his best innocent face. “Won't happen again. Cross my heart.”

 

Sam chuckled as Trickster went back to his spot and grabbed his fourth arrow. He settled his own into the groove again and fiddled with it. “So even the counselors call you that, huh?”

 

Trickster shrugged. “I guess they don't like the thought of a pillowcase full of spiders either,” he said. He brought his bow up and pulled the string back in one fluid motion, shooting it a moment later. It nestled its dull point near the edge of the target. “S'just what people call me. I bet nobody calls you Samuel or anything like that, do they?”

 

“Well no, but...” Sam stopped when Trickster held up a hand.

 

“Elbow,” he said. “Up.”

 

Sam obeyed, took a breath, aimed, and let the arrow fly. It hit the target, about halfway between the edge and the center, and he whooped with glee. “See?” Trickster said. “I give good advice, don't I?”

 

“When it comes to archery at least, I guess.” Trickster grinned at him, aimed for his target again, and shot a perfect bullseye before putting the bow down and sauntering off.

 

“Keep those arms up,” he said, patting the back of his hand against Sam's shoulder as he went, and Sam straightened immediately. “That's the ticket, sasquatch. You'll be shooting bulls in the eye before you know it.” After Sam loosed the arrow and turned to look over his shoulder again, Trickster was gone.

 

* * *

 

Barry was in an exceedingly good mood that night as they walked together toward their cabin, each with a popsicle in hand. Sam's own lips were stained red while Barry's were sticky with grape syrup. “We played for hours!” Barry was saying excitedly. “I didn't want to leave. We're meeting up at lunch again tomorrow. Do you wanna come?”

 

Sam smiled around his frozen cherry treat and licked his lips as he pulled it away, “No thanks...D and D was never my thing. It's okay, though. I think I'm gonna try the hike to the lake overlook tomorrow. I hear it's gorgeous.”

 

Barry made a face, “I'd go too...except I'd come back covered in mosquito bites, and probably ticks too.” He shivered, but Sam just chuckled.

 

“I've got industrial-grade bug spray. I think I'll live.” He bit off the last of his popsicle and licked the final drops of syrup off of the stick. “I just want to see the view once, and then I'll probably stick to swimming and canoeing.”

 

“What about the giant swing?”

 

Sam cocked an eyebrow. “Giant swing?” he asked, and Barry nodded.

 

“It's around on the other side of the lake. This big pair of poles with a huge thick wire between them. They hoist you up and then drop you, and you swing from a harness.” He sucked on the last bit of his popsicle. “It would be kind of cool if it weren't so terrifying.”

 

Now Sam shivered, “I think I'll pass.”

 

Barry smiled. “Yeah, me too. I'm not that brave.”

 

As they headed down the path that passed by the pool, a flash of movement in the corner of Sam's eye made him pause making him squint down the hill. “What is it?” Barry asked, trying to follow his line of sight.

 

“There's someone down there,” Sam told him. And he knew who it was, too.

 

“Who?”

 

Sam didn't answer, but started down the path toward the pool. “I'll meet you back at the cabin, okay?” he called over his shoulder. Barry looked confused, calling after him, but he shrugged with a sigh and headed toward the cabin when Sam didn't turn around to answer him.

 

Trickster was sitting on the edge of the pool, his shoes sitting next to him. He'd dipped his feet in the water and was staring down at them, seeming lost in thought. The gate was locked, but when Sam pulled on it, the padlock fell open. Trickster looked up the moment he heard Sam enter, and he arched an eyebrow at him.

 

“Campers aren't allowed in the pool after five, you know,” he said, and Sam managed a small laugh as he lingered near the fence.

 

“What are you then?” he asked. “Not a camper, I guess.”

 

Trickster smirked. “Just one who knows a thing or two about how stuff works around here,” he nodded toward the gate, “That lock has been busted since last year, but nobody's noticed yet. Guessing they will before too long, but till then...” He just shrugged and looked down at his feet in the water again, his reflection distorted by the ripples.

 

Sam tentatively stepped forward. “What are you doing here, anyway?” he asked. “I mean if you can't-” He stopped, re-choosing his words. “...don't swim.”

 

Trickster let out a tiny huff of a laugh. “What? A guy can't enjoy a nice foot soak in peace?” He kicked his feet, splashing water over the edge. The sun was just starting to set; Sam and Barry had spent longer in the cafeteria than he'd realized at first. No wonder it had been so quiet when they'd left, almost empty save for a few groups of campers and counselors playing cards and board games.

 

“There's gonna be a campfire tonight,” Sam found himself saying. “Are you gonna come?”

 

Trickster smiled at him slyly. “How sweet of you,” he drawled, “Inviting little ole' me to snuggle 'round the fire.”

 

Sam blushed, thought he would have liked to pretend he wasn't. He hoped that he could pass it off as the pink light of the setting sun reflecting on his cheeks. “I was just wondering,” he said.

 

“Aww, relax,” Trickster said as he stood, legs dripping on the concrete edge of the pool. He patted Sam on the chest. “As much as I'd love to see how much I could fluster you, I think I can afford to save that for another day.” He bent down and grabbed his shoes, continuing, “You really think I'd miss s'mores? C'mon, sasquatch. You don't have to know me all that well to know there's no chance of that happening.”

 

Neither of them heard the steps approaching from behind until the gate slammed open, and they both whirled around in surprise, Trickster teetering on the edge of the pool for a moment before regaining his balance and stumbling away from it. “I know it was you that put that snake in my bed,” Dirk huffed, glaring at him, “I don't know how you did it, but I know you did.”

 

Trickster rolled his eyes, “Oh, cool it, jerkface. She was harmless. She wouldn't have hurt a hair on your disproportionately big head. You're the one who ran outside like a scared little baby who wanted his mama.”

 

Dirk's face turned red in the fading light. “I should throw you into the lake. I bet you'd flop around like a hurt fish.”

 

“I'd like to see you try,” Trickster said, one eyebrow arched. Dirk fumed, and glared at Sam.

 

“What are you looking at?” he growled, and Sam held up his hands.

 

“I'm not-”

 

“Oh, don't bring the sasquatch into this,” Trickster sighed, “This is between you and me, pal. And whatever it is, I'd like it to be over.” He walked toward the gate, but Dirk moved, blocking his path. Trickster just rolled his eyes, “Really? This is what we're resorting to now?”

 

“You think you're so big and strong,” Dirk challenged, mockingly.

 

“I'm really not. But at least I have more than a medium-rare steak between my ears.” Dirk pushed him, square in the chest, and Trickster stumbled back a few steps, making Dirk chuckle. “Touch me again and I promise you'll regret it,” Trickster said, and his tone of voice was downright menacing, sending a shiver down Sam's spine. He had no doubt that the elder camper would make good on that promise if Dirk pushed him to it.

 

“What are you gonna do about it?” Dirk asked.

 

“You really want to know?”

 

“Quit it!” Sam shouted, finally finding his voice.

 

“Oh relax, sasquatch. He's not gonna do anything.”

 

“You wanna bet?” asked Dirk. Sam turned to face him.

 

“Just cut it out, alright? Forget it! Quit being such a jerk!”

 

“I'll show you a jerk!” Dirk lunged, shoving Sam to the side and slamming Trickster in the stomach. Trickster reeled backwards again, this time tipping over the edge, his eyes wide in surprise as he toppled into the water with a huge splash.

 

Dirk laughed to himself, but Sam felt horror settle cold in his gut when he’d regained his balance and it only doubled when the other boy broke the surface, gasping for air, arms flailing. He went under again a moment later, feet unable to find the bottom in the eight feet of water that made up the pool's deep end. Slowly, Dirk's smile started to fade.

 

“What's he doing?” he asked, and Sam's heart pounded in his chest, his legs feeling frozen under him. Trickster let out a guttural cry, spitting out water as he broke the surface again.

 

“Get someone!” Sam yelled. Dirk had gone pale. “God, get someone!”

 

“I...I...” Dirk said stiffly, seeming like he was having trouble breathing.

 

Sam's legs were moving before he'd given them the command, and suddenly he was in the water. His sneakers filled and his clothes dragged him down, and the chlorine burned his eyes when he tried to open them, but his hands seemed to know where to go even without the guidance of sight. After a few moments of aimless flailing, his fingers met something warm and solid, and he grabbed on with everything he had and kicked, kicked, kicked. Finally, he was able to grab the edge of the pool, and he hauled Trickster over to it.

 

Trickster latched onto the edge, pushing himself up and hanging there, half in the water, until Sam pushed him the rest of the way. He stayed on his hands and knees, coughing up water and trying to catch his breath.

 

Sam pulled himself out of the pool, panting. Dirk was still there, staring, shaking. “Oh my god,” he said. “Oh my god...”

 

Sam reached for trickster with one unsteady hand. “Are you-” But Trickster was already pushing himself up onto his feet and staggering toward the gate, sopping wet, moisture streaking down his face that wasn't from the pool.

 

“Get away from me!” he breathed raggedly. “Just get...get away...”

 

He left his shoes and walked barefoot across the grass.

 

* * *

 

He didn't expect to see Trickster at the campfire, but it didn't help the disappointment that settled snugly behind his sternum when he saw that he wasn't there. He halfheartedly roasted a marshmallow until it caught fire and fell into the logs, bursting open when it hit and melting across the scorched wood. “You okay?” Barry asked him, fanning away the smoke that had blown in their direction with the change in wind. “You still haven't told me what happened...why you were soaked when you came back to the cabin...”

 

“It's nothing,” Sam said, his tone a little harsher than he'd intended it to be. He sighed and softened it. “It's really nothing...I'm fine, I promise. Just...I don't really want to talk about it.”

 

Barry stared at him a moment before reaching to grab another marshmallow. He handed it to Sam. “Okay,” he said. He squished his own marshmallow between a pair of graham crackers and bit into it.

 

Dirk came to the fire late, and by that time, the chocolate had run out and the flames had burned down to smoldering embers. Sam glared at him as he slunk around to sit on a log on the other side of the fire pit, keeping to himself and wringing his hands. There was no point that Sam could see in saying a single word to him, so he kept them all to himself.

 

He and Barry headed back to the cabin around the time the clean-up crew started to put out the last of the fire and pick up the errant cracker wrappers that had fallen between the logs. It was late, and the cicadas were singing so loudly that Sam could barely hear himself think. His wet clothes were no longer dripping, but they were still damp where he'd hung them in the bathroom by the showers, so he left them there to keep drying overnight.

 

He slept restlessly, lying awake in the dark and listening to Barry's even breathing on the bunk below him. He tossed and turned for what felt like hours before finally reaching into the bag he'd hung from the corner of the bunk and wrapping his fingers around the familiar length of thin chain, his thumb trailing over the teardrop-shaped charm hanging from it.

 

He worried that if he fell asleep, he'd dream of being up on that giant monstrosity on the other side of the lake, with nothing but a wire between him and the ground. When he finally did drift off, however, he dreamed of water instead.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Sam didn't have much of an appetite the next morning, but he walked with Barry to the cafeteria for breakfast anyway, hoping that the pleasant morning breeze would wake him up a bit after a night of fitful, fleeting sleep. He yawned the whole way there, absently running a hand through his unruly hair to try and subdue his bedhead. It wasn't working very well. “The hike leaves after breakfast, right?” Barry said, “Are you still going?”

 

Sam nodded as he tried to suppress another yawn and failed, “Course I am. I'm not gonna fall asleep on the path or anything.”

 

“You sure about that?” Sam smiled at him, and Barry looked down at the grass. “I heard you tossing and turning last night...Were you having a nightmare?”

 

Sam shook his head, “Not a nightmare, really...just a...weird dream,” he shrugged, “I don't remember much of it now anyway.”

 

It wasn't a complete lie; the dream hadn't been more than a few flashes of sensation and fleeting images that came in fits and bursts, and it was hard to recall much of it even moments after waking up. He could remember hitting water, fighting his way through it even though it resisted him like it had the consistency of syrup rather than clear liquid, and he could vividly remember the feeling of pulling something warm and heavy from its clutches. But it hadn't been a nightmare. Not really. It hadn't been fear he'd felt before waking, but his heart had been pounding all the same.

 

He squeezed his eyes shut tight and opened them again. They were uncomfortably dry, and he rubbed them with the heels of his hands as they went inside the cafeteria.

 

He stood in line mutely and spooned scrambled eggs and potatoes onto his plate, grabbing an apple as an afterthought before going to sit down. The smell of the food made his mouth water, his stomach finally unclenching and growling insistently.

 

Trickster caught his eye the moment he turned from the line and went to find a seat; he was sitting by the window, alone again, picking at his food, but not eating much of it. Sam didn't think the older camper even noticed him. He turned to Barry. “Hey...you wanna go find a seat? I'll catch up.”

 

“You're not gonna get yourself soaked again, are you?” Barry asked, one eyebrow arched, and Sam managed a small, albeit somewhat forced chuckle.

 

“No. I promise. Just...I'll be there in a sec, okay?”

 

He headed toward Trickster's table, heart pounding for some reason, and he stood facing him with his tray still in his hands as he tried to think of something to say. Finally, he settled on, “Morning.”

 

Trickster glanced up at him. “Hi,” he said softly, his eyes darting around the room and back up to meet Sam's gaze again. “What are you up to, sasquatch?” There was something different in his voice; some swagger that was missing, replaced instead with uncertainty. Sam shrugged.

 

“Not a whole lot. I just...wanted to ask...I mean, I was wondering-”

 

“I'm fine,” Trickster said before Sam could even finish his thought, and he went back to playing with his scrambled eggs, leaving Sam to stand there feeling horrendously out of place.

 

“What?” he managed.

 

“I said I'm fine. You don't need to worry about me.” He glanced up at him again. “Get it?” Slowly, Sam nodded. “Good.”

 

Sam got a creeping feeling that he wasn't going to get anywhere with this conversation, so with a small sigh, he started to turn around, to head back to where Barry had found a seat near the door, with a few guys Sam figured were from the D and D crowd. But before he'd taken any more than a step, Trickster spoke up again: “Thanks,” he said, and Sam turned to face him once more, head tilted to one side.

 

“Thanks?”

 

“Yeah,” Trickster mumbled, not meeting his eyes. “You know for...for what you did...at the pool...Just...thanks...”

 

“Not like I was going to let you drown,” Sam said with a nervous laugh.

 

“I wouldn't have drowned,” Trickster glared, but not at him; he focused his frustration on his toast instead and started ripping it to bits. “It would have been fine. It's not like you saved my life or anything.” Sam wondered if he was lying, and more importantly, he wondered who Trickster was really trying to convince. “Still...it was brave of you, jumping in like that. So...yeah...thanks.”

 

Sam shrugged, still standing there with his damn tray and feeling more and more conspicuous. Trickster finally rolled his eyes and gestured to the seat opposite him. “Do you want to sit down or what?” Sam did so quickly, and Trickster resumed obliterating his toast. “How was the fire?”

 

“What?” Sam asked.

 

“The campfire. How was it?”

 

“It was...fine, I guess,” he reached for his fork, out of habit more than hunger, “You missed s'mores.”

 

“And I hate myself for it,” Trickster said, “I'll just have to make up for it by eating twice as many at the next one.”

 

Sam picked up his apple and peeled the sticker off of it, rolling it between his fingers and mulling over what to say next. The words seemed to trip across his lips before he'd even given them permission to do so: “You know...it's okay...to be scared of the water, or whatever.” He worried that it was the wrong thing to say the moment he heard himself speak. “I mean, everyone is afraid of something.”

 

He expected Trickster to deny it, to insist that he wasn't scared and tell Sam to get lost, but he didn't. He didn't say anything. He just shrugged and nodded, and finally, after a long moment's silence, he mumbled, “Yeah, I know.”

 

It took a few painfully long seconds for Sam to finally offer, “I'm scared of clowns.”

 

Trickster arched an eyebrow at him. “What?”

 

“Clowns,” Sam said. “I can't stand them.” He shivered, and Trickster started to smile.

 

“Clowns? Seriously? Out of all the stuff in the world to be scared of, you're terrified of clowns?”

 

“It's not like I can help it.”

 

“True,” Trickster relented. He picked up a strip of bacon and tore it in half with his teeth. He chewed pensively. “You get lost at the circus as a kid or something?”

 

“Not exactly.” Sam bit into his apple. It was tart and ripe, and he wiped some of the juice off of his chin with the back of one hand. “My brother took me to this place when I was really little...sort of like a cheap amusement park type deal, with a ball pit and video games and stuff. Plucky Pennywhistle's-”

 

“Magical Menagerie,” the both said together, and Trickster grinned. “You know that place?” Sam asked.

 

“Hell yeah, I know it,” Trickster said around his bacon, “I puked in the ball pit when I was ten.”

 

Sam stared at him for a few seconds before bursting into laughter. Trickster giggled right along with him, eyes sparkling and teeth gleaming in the sunlight streaming through the cafeteria window behind them. He reached up and wiped his eyes as their laughter died down, and he reached for a glass of chocolate milk, downing a large portion of it and licking his lips. Slowly, his smile faded, replaced by a deeply thoughtful look that made his eyebrows knit together and his mouth mold itself into a hard line. “Sasquatch...if I told you something, would you swear to keep it to yourself?”

 

Sam blinked at him, eyebrows arching upward, “Well...yeah. Sure.” He leaned forward when Trickster gestured for him to do so and he saw the older camper take a deep breath.

 

“My name's not really Trickster,” he said.

 

“I know that.” Trickster rolled his eyes.

 

“Well of course you know that. Who would actually be named Trickster? But I mean...my name...my actual name...It's...” He took another breath, keeping his voice low as he mumbled something.

 

“What?” Sam asked.

 

Trickster groaned, “Gabriel, okay? My name is Gabriel.”

 

“Gabriel?” Sam repeated, and he smiled a little nervously, “Like the angel.”

 

Trickster – Gabriel – immediately moaned and ran his hands irately through his hair, and Sam put up his hands. “Okay, okay! Not like the angel.”

 

“It's fine,” Gabriel sighed, the words sounding forced, “I just...I get enough of that at home, you know? That's why I don't go by that here. It's why I don't tell anybody. Cause here at least I don't have to put up with constantly being reminded that I'm named after a goddamn messenger of the Lord.” He pointed a finger at Sam, “And I swear if you tell anyone, I'll end you, you got it?”

 

“I got it,” Sam assured him. “Snake in my bed, a pillowcase full of spiders, the whole deal. I won't tell anybody.”

 

“Good,” Gabriel said with a nod, “And you still call me Trickster around here, alright?”

 

“Your secret's safe with me.” Sam smiled at him. “...Trickster.”

 

Gabriel's smirk was small, but noticeable enough that it made Sam's mood lift as he watched the other camper stand up and swallow the last of his chocolate milk. “I'll see you around, sasquatch,” he said as he wiped his mouth, and as he started to leave, Sam turned.

 

“Hey,” he called, and Gabriel paused and faced him with an inquisitive hum, “What are you doing today?”

 

“Dunno,” Gabriel said, shrugging. “Why?”

 

“I'm going on the hike up to the lake overlook after breakfast. I was wondering...did you...”

 

“A hike?” Gabriel wrinkled his nose. “Sounds like a lot of effort. And I'm not exactly a fan of the bugs.”

 

“I've got bug spray,” Sam offered with a lopsided grin. For the life of him he couldn't work out why he was even asking Gabriel to come with him. It hadn't crossed his mind before, but now he was determined. At the very least it would be nice to have someone else there with him who he already knew, since Barry already had plans. “It'll be...neat.”

 

Gabriel giggled, “Did you just say it'll be neat?” Sam felt his face heat up. “Well...I've got nothing else going on, I guess. What the hell? Sure. I'll come along.” He turned again, smirking over his shoulder as he went, “But don't expect me to behave myself, sasquatch.”

 

They gathered outside of the infirmary a half hour later. The early-morning chill had burned off, but it was still pleasantly cool. Even so, Sam knew he'd be a sweaty mess by the time they made it back later that afternoon; he'd packed his largest water bottle, filled to the brim, as well as a can of heavy-duty bug spray. He adjusted his backpack over his shoulders and looked around in the sparse crowd for Gabriel, but didn't see him.

 

Chuck looked like he'd barely slept and woken up too late in the morning to shave. He ran his hand through his disheveled hair as he looked down a checklist and took peoples' names for the roster. “If that's everyone, I guess we'll head out...”

 

Sam looked all around for Gabriel, but didn't see him. “There's one more,” he said, and Chuck furrowed his brow at him, “Ga-...Trickster? He's supposed to-”

 

“Right here,” Gabriel piped up, heading toward the group with his backpack slung over his shoulders. He grinned at Chuck, who gave him a look that seemed almost nervous. Sam wondered just how much Gabriel's reputation preceded him. At the very least, the older camper seemed not to mind; in fact, he reveled in it.

 

So they set out up the path into the woods. It was a well-worn dirt and gravel foot path, traveled many times over by campers heading out to the lake overlook. It was warm out, but the trees provided ample shade. Worse than the sun were the bugs; the bug spray that Sam had brought kept off the mosquitoes, but he did run into his fair share of persistent gnats.

 

They'd been walking for about fifteen minutes when he heard Gabriel gag, and he looked over just in time to watch him cough and spit on the ground. “I think I swallowed a bug,” Gabriel moaned, wrinkling his nose and promptly pulling a lemon drop from his pocket. He popped it into his mouth.

 

“You want more bug spray?” Sam offered, talking out of the side of his mouth to try and avoid a similar fate.

 

“Unless you want me to gargle it, I doubt it'll help,” Gabriel shifted his backpack over his shoulders and trekked on, kicking a pine cone across the dirt as he went.

 

Sam stared up at the crisscrossing branches above them as he walked, breathing in the scents of pine and dew and earth and grinning discretely to himself. This was, oddly enough, just what he'd been craving: no stress, no uncertainty, nothing to do but walk, and nothing to worry about except making sure that he didn't trip over any roots on the path.

 

He reached into his backpack and grabbed his water bottle, downing a few gulps as something caught his eye through the tree line to his right: two massive, thick poles standing side by side near the edge of the lake, a heavy cable connecting them at the top.

 

“I love that thing,” he heard Gabriel say. “Can't wait to get up there again.” Sam looked at him and noticed that Gabriel was following his line of sight, looking out between the trees.

 

“Is that the...giant swing?” Sam asked, and Gabriel nodded.

 

“Sure is. So much better than canoeing. Why row when you can fly, right?” He elbowed Sam lightly in the ribs.

 

Sam rubbed the area, purely out of habit, even though it didn't hurt, “I think I'd prefer to keep my feet on the ground, personally.”

 

“Not afraid of heights too, are you?”

 

He shook his head. “No, not really. I guess I just don't really see what's so fun about an uncontrolled descent.”

 

Gabriel chuckled at that, looking a little wistful. “That's the fun part though. Letting go of control...after you pull that release clip, it's all up to gravity. It's like a roller coaster. All the fun of the fall without the messy landing.”

 

“You pull the clip yourself?” Sam asked dubiously. “Like...you have to actually let go all on your own?”

 

“Hells yeah, you do!” Gabriel said, and he grinned widely. “It used to be all the rage at church retreats and stuff, all about faith and putting your life in God's hands and whatnot. Like a cosmic trust fall. But here it's just about the fun of it. Even better too: I don't want to have to say a prayer every time I want a little adrenaline rush.”

 

The swing disappeared from view as they went around a bend in the path and started heading up a shallow hill. “Careful,” said Chuck, pointing to a patch of greenery near the edge of the path. “That's poison oak. Keep away unless you want to get dragged straight back to the infirmary.” He shivered a little and added, “I got poison oak once. It was awful.”

 

Sam dutifully avoided the patch, giving it a wide berth. He didn't much like the idea of spending a miserable itchy couple of days in his cabin when he could be out enjoying the limited amount of time he had here.

 

They came to a clearing about fifteen minutes later, the path winding around toward a set of wooden steps half-buried in the side of a steep hill. They made their way up and stopped at a wide, grassy area overlooking Amber Lake, with a sturdy wooden railing between them and the steep drop into the water. “Alright,” Chuck said, wiping his brow as he put down his large, bulky backpack and caught his breath. His face was still slightly red as he pulled out a couple of insulated lunch boxes and started to pass out sandwiches. “We'll spend an hour or two here and eat lunch, then loop back around to the camp. No wandering off into the woods, and no hanging off the railing. No sitting on it either or playing on it. Just...be careful around the railing.”

 

Sam found a spot on a rock between the tree line and the edge of the overlook and started to unwrap his sandwich. The view was gorgeous: the water below sparkled under the late morning sun, nestled in a ring of lush green trees. On the opposite shore, he could easily make out the clearing where the camp itself was, with the cafeteria and the pool out in the open, the archery range near the bank, and the cabins half-hidden by trees. He let out a contented sigh, only looking away from the lake when Gabriel sauntered up to the tree beside him and unzipped his fly.

 

“Do you mind?” Sam asked with an arched eyebrow, looking pointedly up at Gabriel's face as the other camper relieved himself on the side of the trunk.

 

“No,” he replied. “Nature calls. What can you do?” He zipped himself up again and sat beside Sam, plucking his own sandwich from where he'd left it on the flat surface of the rock while he'd done his business. “Nice view, isn't it?”

 

“It's great,” Sam said, picking at the crust of his bread. “It guess you've probably seen it a ton of times already, huh?”

 

Gabriel shrugged, “Doesn't mean it's not pretty.” He bit into his own sandwich with gusto, “This your first time at a summer camp or what?”

 

“Yeah,” Sam softly.

 

“No shit? Guess that explains why you're so eager to try everything you can. But it'll still be here next year, kiddo. You can always come back.”

 

“Yeah...” Sam said again, looking away this time. If Gabriel noticed, he didn't mention it.

 

“Ah, got it!” They both looked up when they heard the cry, and their eyes found the boy across the clearing at the same moment: he was tall and skinny with a crooked nose and messy short hair, and he was holding a frog in his rough, bony hands. He held it up by one leg, grinning as it squirmed.

 

“Ever wonder what frog legs taste like?” he asked, and two or three people around him laughed.

 

“What's his problem?” Sam said.

 

“I dunno, sasquatch. But I really don't think it's gonna end well for that little guy,” Gabriel nodded toward the frog, which was now trapped in one list fist. It had become unnaturally still.

 

“Alastair!” Chuck called. “Put the frog down!”

 

The boy – Alastair – rolled his eyes, but obeyed, dropping it on the ground and watching it hop toward the trees. When Chuck turned away again, however, he smirked and smashed it beneath his shoe with a half-disgusted cry of glee. Sam glared as Alastair wiped his sole on a nearby tree trunk and walked away, and Gabriel made a muffled “Ugh” sound and put down the last few bites of his sandwich.

 

There was something in Gabriel's eye, Sam noticed: a glint that was somewhat familiar and he wasn't sure if he was meant to feel unsettled by it, or comforted. Maybe a little of both.

 

Gabriel was oddly quiet for the next hour that they spent at the overlook. Sam wound up joining a game of cards that Chuck had going with a few other campers near the tree line, but every so often, when he looked over at Gabriel, the other boy was looking intently through the underbrush and leaves, brow pinched in concentration.

 

“Trickster, don't wander too far,” Chuck called, and Gabriel didn't bother to look up as he waved his hand in acknowledgment. The counselors really do all call him that, Sam thought. He wondered if anyone else at this camp even knew his real name. They had to, he figured. It's not like he could actually put “Trickster” on his registration forms.

 

They packed up as it was starting to get warmer, and when Sam caught his eye again as they headed back toward camp, Gabriel was grinning, looking supremely pleased with himself. “What's going on with you?” Sam asked him dubiously. Gabriel held his hands behind his back and shrugged.

 

“Nothing's going on with me.”

 

“You've got that weird look in your eye...”

 

“What look?” Gabriel asked, arching one eyebrow.

 

“You know...that look. You had it the night you-” He dropped his voice to a low whisper. “-you pranked Dirk?”

 

“Oh, please. I'm not gonna do anything.” But Sam saw him glance over toward Alastair, who was sauntering along with the group a little ways down the path.

 

It wasn't more than five minutes later that Gabriel looked around carefully, and then darted off the path into the trees. Sam blinked in disbelief, hesitating only a moment or two before following him. Gabriel was already halfway up a tree when Sam caught up to him. “What are you doing?” he hissed. He could see the group through the tree line just up the path, but they didn't seem to notice either of them, and Gabriel just kept climbing.

 

“Don't worry about it,” Gabriel told him.

 

“Gabriel, what the hell are you-”

 

“Trickster,” Gabriel warned him, shooting him a half-hearted glare before smirking again and shimmying out onto one of the branches, hidden from the approaching hike group by the leaves, but almost right over their heads. Gabriel opened his hand, and in it, Sam saw something move.

 

“What's that?” He squinted. “Is that a spider?”

 

“Banded garden spider,” Gabriel said plainly. His eyes focused on the group, and on one member in particular. Sam didn't have to think long to know who it was, and he hopped up to grab a low branch, clumsily making his way up the tree toward him. “Get down! You'll blow my cover!”

 

“Don't do this! He killed a frog. He's a dick. But you can't-”

 

“Oh relax.” Gabriel rolled his eyes. “She's not even poisonous. Look!” He held out the spider, whose abdomen was striped with white and yellow; its legs were long and spindly, a dark brown color. Sam flinched away, and Gabriel smirked even wider, turning toward the group again.

 

Sam reached a branch just below him, arms burning and his legs stinging from the scrapes he'd gotten on the way up. He hadn't climbed any trees in a good long time, and he was rusty. He tugged on the hem of Gabriel's shorts. “Get down. You're gonna get us in trouble.”

 

“No, you're gonna get us in trouble if you don't shut up.” The group was just beneath them now, and Gabriel held out his hand, the spider loosely cupped in his palm. It sat motionless, as if lying in wait. Sam wondered how the hell Gabriel had managed not to earn himself a bite. Maybe he had, and he was just good at masking pain.

 

Just as Gabriel got ready to let the spider free, Sam reached up and grabbed his shoulder. Gabriel let out a cry, his balance failing him, and as he grasped the branch to steady himself, the spider went tumbling down...landing squarely on Chuck's head.

 

The two of them could only watch dumbly as Chuck screamed, stumbling and flailing and tripping off the path as he tried to get the spider off of him. He pitched backward, into the underbrush as the other campers stared, wide-eyed, a few of them laughing, others watching in horror. Sam winced as Chuck wound up splayed on his back in a thick patch of poison oak.

 

Gabriel let out a strangled half-laugh, or it might have been a sob. Sam didn't have time to figure it out, because at that moment, Chuck saw them, and he glared. “You two,” he called, hauling himself up. “Both of you! Down here!”

 

Sam looked up at Gabriel. His smile had faded. “Well...” the older camper said, “Shit.”

 

* * *

 

The “detention cabin” – or Cockatoo Cabin, as the sign outside it proclaimed – was situated all the way down the winding path past the other cabins, up on a hill and nestled in the trees, almost out of sight from down below. It was much smaller than the others in the camp. There was only one main room, with a small bathroom coming off of it that looked clean enough, but just barely functional. There were two beds, one on each side of the cabin, and Sam dropped his duffle bag on one of them and glared at it as he began to unpack.

 

“You might as well just live out of the bag,” Gabriel said. “We're only gonna be here a week.”

 

Sam said nothing, but he could practically hear the roll of Gabriel's eyes as footsteps approached him from behind. “C'mon, sasquatch...It's not so bad. So we're a little farther away from everyone else. Big deal!”

 

Gabriel sighed when Sam still didn't respond, and there was a dull thunk as he dropped his own bag on the opposite bed. “I hate to say I told you so, you know, but you can hardly complain. This wouldn't have happened if you'd just let me do my thing-”

 

“What, so this is my fault?” Sam asked, turning to face him at last and sending him the hardest glare he could muster. “You're the one who's obsessed for getting back at people for every little stupid thing. You're the one that-” He groaned angrily, gripping at his hair and letting out a harsh sigh as he turned back to his bag and started to take out his clothes to put them in the dresser. “Just...don't talk to me, okay? Mind your own business.”

 

“So you're just gonna give me the cold shoulder this whole week?” Gabriel huffed. “Hate to say it, sasquatch, but you're stuck with me, so you may as well-”

 

“Sam!” Sam barked as his head whipped around again. Gabriel blinked at him, and Sam rounded his shoulders. “My name is Sam.” He dumped out the last of his clothes and tossed his bag on the floor, tenderly cradling the small box he took out of the bottom of it in his hands before placing it in the bottom drawer of the dresser.

 

“You want me to apologize?” Gabriel asked. “Is that what you want?”

 

“I don't care.”

 

“Oh, drop the surly teenager act, kiddo. Just tell me what you want for crying out loud.”

 

“Fine! Yes, I want you to apologize.”

 

Gabriel crossed his arms over his chest and raised his eyebrows. “Well, tough titties, sasquatch. Not happening.”

 

“Figured,” Sam said. He let out a bitter laugh. “Bullies never do.”

 

For the first time, Sam actually heard Gabriel make a sound that almost seemed offended, and he felt rather pleased with himself when he turned and saw his expression had changed to one of defiance. “I'm not a bully,” Gabriel said.

 

“Yes you are. You act like you're so high and mighty, passing judgment on people who deserve to be knocked down a notch, but you're just a bully, just like them. You're just like Dirk, and Alastair, and every other jerk that's ever picked on someone who couldn't fight back.”

 

Gabriel clenched his fists. “I'm not a bully!” he insisted.

 

“That's exactly what you are,” Sam spat. “And it's all you ever will be.” Suddenly, Gabriel's hands were on him, fingers twisting the fabric of his T-shirt, and Sam stumbled until back until he hit the dresser, making it slam loudly against the wall.

 

“Don't you ever, ever, pretend you know what I am,” Gabriel hissed. “I've never picked on anyone who wasn't asking for it. Everyone I ever messed with, they had it coming from a mile away. I'm not a bully. I'm a trickster. Got that?”

 

Sam pushed him away, and Gabriel didn't advance again, though his fists shook by his sides, his breath coming in shallow, shaky bursts. “Yeah, well I don't see a difference,” Sam told him. “Just stay on your side of the room. Leave me alone.”

 

Gabriel threw up his hands, stalking over to his bed. “Fine,” he growled. “I'll leave you the fuck alone. Whine and moan all you want about how I ruined your summer camp experience. See if I care.”

 

He flopped onto his bed, pulling out a beat up old iPod and putting on a pair of big headphones to block out the world around him as he stared at the wall.

 

When Sam had unpacked, his anger had gone from a boil to a low simmer, and he took out his journal, casting a cursory glance over at Gabriel – he hadn't moved an inch – before opening it and starting to write in a messy, scrawling hand.

 

“You're a dick, you know that?” he said as he wrote. Gabriel couldn't hear him, but he didn't care. “You're a dick and an asshole and a shitty excuse for a human being.” The words tripped off his tongue, hot and sour, almost of their own accord. “I bet you didn't even care about Barry when you stood up to Dirk. I bet you just get off on making other people think you're dangerous, and you just hide behind the fact that you only mess with other bullies to make it seem like you actually have a shred of human decency.”

 

He might have written some of that down at some point, but he couldn't be sure; he couldn't read the words he left on the paper. The act of writing itself was more a habit from when it used to actually help him feel better.

 

He didn't stop until his wrist was cramping and his anger had mostly cooled, but though it was gone, it still left a bad taste in his mouth. He got up and stretched.

 

“I'm going to dinner,” he said, not caring if Gabriel could hear him through those headphones. “Are you going to eat anything or are you just gonna sit there feeling sorry for yourself?” When Gabriel didn't stir, Sam rolled his eyes. “Figures...” he said, and he headed out the door.

 

* * *

 

A tiny nagging sense of guilt started to gnaw at his insides when he was halfway through pretending to eat, but he didn't let it take hold. He refused to let it get to him. There was no reason for him to feel guilty; Gabriel had been the one to sic that spider on Chuck and give him a nasty case of poison oak. Sam had done nothing but try and stop him, and there was no reason for him to feel guilty for that. Any decent person would have done the same, after all.

 

“I can't believe he did something like that...” Barry said after Sam finished explaining what had happened, “You're stuck in that creepy old cabin for a whole week?”

 

“It's not that creepy,” Sam told him, “But yeah...And we can't do any camp activities either. No canoeing, no archery, no swimming-”

 

“No giant swing?” Barry offered, and Sam managed a tiny laugh.

 

“I'm not going to complain about that one.”

 

“So what are you going to do then?”

 

Sam shrugged, “I don't know...I'll figure something out I guess.”

 

Barry seemed hesitant to continue, but after a few moments, he did anyway: “That Trickster guy...what he did was pretty low...but he seems kind of cool. I thought you were getting to be friends.”

 

“I kinda thought so too,” Sam admitted.

 

“I bet he's just as upset as you are that he's stuck in that cabin.”

 

“Well it's his fault. He should feel bad about it.”

 

“I'm not saying it's not his fault, but...I mean, it's just gonna be worse if you guys are mad at each other the whole time, isn't it? It would be better if you two could at least have each other for company.”

 

“I don't want a bully like him for company,” Sam said. He swirled his milk in his glass, but didn't drink. “I brought some books. I'll just...read or something. And then when I get out of Cockatoo, I'll do all the things I missed out on this week, and stay far, far away from Trickster.”

 

* * *

 

Sam didn't want to go back to the cabin; he didn't until it was getting dark and all the campers were required to head inside. Gabriel had barely moved when Sam got back. He still had those damn headphones on, his iPod resting on the bed beside him. At some point, he'd taken a big bag of gummy worms out of his duffle, and was chewing on one of them, not even looking up when Sam came inside.

 

“Still wallowing?” Sam asked, trying to make his words sound bitter. “Are you just gonna lie there the whole time? Fine...do it if you want. I don't care.” He sat down on the edge of his bed with a heavy sigh, his hair flopping into his face. “I bet you think it's stupid...” he mumbled after a moment, his voice tired; it just took too much energy to make his tone sound angry when the anger he had felt before had waned. “...me making such a big deal of this. I mean, who cares if I miss out on a few days of camp stuff right?” He laughed, but it was a bitter sound.

 

“You don't get it, though,” he continued, “You've been coming here for years. You've had time to try everything. What's one week to you? But this...I wasn't lying when I said this was my first time at camp. At any kind of camp. And I don't even know if I'm ever gonna get another chance to do any of this stuff.”

 

He fidgeted on his bed, but Gabriel didn't move, didn't even look up. After a moment, he shifted, just to grab another gummy worm from his bag and tear it in half between his teeth.. Sam wondered just what he was listening to. He probably couldn't even hear him talking at all, but so what?

 

“We moved around a lot, growing up,” he found himself saying, staring at the scuffed up floor boards. “My dad...” Something heavy and cold settled in his gut, and he swallowed past it. “My dad thought stuff like this was a waste of time. I was always the new kid at school, never had any friends...I hated it.” He glared at his sneakers, fingers digging into the mattress. “I hated all of it. I just wanted to feel normal...For once I just wanted to be a normal kid. Maybe that shouldn't mean so much to me, but it does...” He shrugged, as if he could let the words roll off of him instead of having to feel them sit there, stewing in the silence between them.

 

He almost expected Gabriel to have acknowledged him somehow when he looked up again, but obviously, it was too much to hope for. Maybe it was for the best; after all, he didn't need this self-absorbed jerk knowing all about his deepest thoughts. He sighed as he stood, grabbing his towel and his shower caddy and heading into the bathroom.

 

“I'm gonna take a shower,” he said. “I stink.”

 

The water took forever to even get lukewarm, and it smelled like the lake, but it was refreshing anyway. At least it was better than feeling sticky and grody from sweating all day, and when he got out, dried off and changed into some fresh pajamas, his mood had lifted a bit.

 

He thought back on what Barry had said. Gabriel certainly seemed upset, but what did he care if they'd gotten in trouble? A “trickster” like him probably got sent to the detention cabin all the time anyway. What was a little punishment to a professional troublemaker?

 

Still, the way he'd just lay there all evening was unnerving, Sam had to admit, and despite how much he tried not to, he started to worry. When he came out of the bathroom, Gabriel still didn't seem to have moved a single muscle, and Sam was just about to bite the bullet and ask if he was alright when something on his own bed caught his eye.

 

Gabriel's iPod was resting on the pillow, and Sam reached out to pick it up and see what Gabriel had been listening to all this time...only to find that it was dead. Laid out on his sheets, he noticed now, were several gummy worms, laid end to end, spelling out a single word:

 

Sorry.

 

“That's all you're getting.” Sam turned, iPod still clutched in his hand. Gabriel was sitting up on his own bed, headphones resting around his neck. He twirled the cord between his fingers as he raised his eyebrows and nodded at the gummy worms on Sam's mattress. “I only have the one bag and you do not want to see me when I'm going through sugar withdrawal.”

 

“When did your battery die?” Sam asked.

 

Gabriel shrugged. “In the middle of the Les Mis soundtrack somewhere after Master of the House.” Sam nodded in understanding even though it wasn't the answer he'd wanted.

 

“My dad left when I was five,” Gabriel suddenly blurted, and Sam could only stare and sputter, “What?”

 

Gabriel got up, walking up to Sam and plucking the iPod from his fingers. “You told me something about your family, even if you didn't think I could hear. Only fair I tell you something too, right? Equivalent exchange and all that.”

 

“I guess,” Sam relented.

 

They stared at each other a moment before Gabriel glanced down at the gummy worms and asked, “You gonna eat 'em?”

 

“Huh?”

 

“Oh, come on, sasquatch! Don't tell me they're gonna go to waste!”

 

Sam looked down at them for a moment, contemplating, and then he plucked a green one from the end of the S and ate it.

 

“Lime flavor,” Gabriel said with an approving grin. “My favorite.”

 

* * *

 

It was two o'clock in the morning when Sam woke up screaming.

 

He clutched the sheets close to him, chasing his breath, trying to will the tears to stop making it hard to breath and failing. He squinted through the darkness, just barely able to make out Gabriel's sleeping form on the other side of the room, and when he was sure that he was truly asleep, Sam fumbled through the bottom drawer of his dresser for the box.

 

The cool chain pressing against his palm made his head stop spinning, if only just, and he clutched it closer, breathing against it until the metal was warm against his skin. He brushed his knuckles against one cheek and they came away wet.

 

“Nightmare, kiddo?” Gabriel's voice was oddly soft, almost tender. Maybe it was just because he was still half-asleep, Sam thought, but when he looked up at him, Gabriel's eyes – glinting in the moonlight – were wide and alert.

 

Sam shook his head. He could almost hear Gabriel's eyebrow bow upward toward his hairline. “You know I know you're lying, right?” he said.

 

“Just go back to sleep,” Sam rasped, hating the way his voice shook and cracked as he did.

 

“Too late,” Gabriel replied breezily, “Awake now.”

 

Sam choked on a sob, pressing the teardrop-shaped pendant against his lips and pretending that the chain draped over his fingers was another warm hand.

 

“Breathe, Sam,” Gabriel said, his tone firm. Sam sucked in a shaking breath. “See? Easy.”

 

With trembling hands, Sam covered his eyes, and when he sighed, it came out more like a ragged whimper. He heard Gabriel whistle. “Must've been one helluva dream. What was it? Creepy abandoned hospital? Demon clowns? Rabid geese?”

 

“A car...a car crash,” Sam said in a small voice, slowly lowering his hands.

 

“What? That's all?” There was a soft rustling noise as Gabriel got up, padding across the room on bare feet. Sam could only see his shadow, but his bed dipped noticeably when Gabriel sat at the foot of it. “Guess I gotta ask then...cause you've piqued my curiosity now, and you can't just leave me hangin'...your brain just messing with you, or were you reliving one nasty memory?”

 

Sam laughed at that, a little hysterically.. It felt like it had been punched out of him. “I wasn't there...,” he admitted. His thumb traced over the smooth edge of the pendent in his palm, and Gabriel's eyes darted down toward it for a moment before he met Sam's gaze again. It seemed almost like an unspoken request for him to continue, so Sam did, adding, “My brother was. And my dad. You don't really want to hear about this, do you?”

 

“Yeah,” Gabriel said, crossing his legs and scooting a little closer, “I kinda do.”

 

Sam paused a moment, his chest unclenching bit by bit as the seconds ticked by, and finally, he reached out, putting the necklace back into the old eyeglass case he'd been keeping it in and facing Gabriel once more. His hands felt oddly naked now without the metal chain dragging against his skin. “You tell me something first.”

 

Gabriel's eyebrows arched. “Really?”

 

“Equivalent exchange, right? Or whatever you said before. You tell me something, and I'll tell you.”

 

“What do you want me to tell?”

 

Sam shrugged. “How about I ask you something...and then if you answer, you can ask me something like it. A question for a question.”

 

“I like the way you think, sasquatch,” Gabriel chuckled, grinning. He crossed his arms, ready for a challenge. “Alright...shoot.”

 

Sam didn't have to think long. “How come your dad left?”

 

If the question bothered Gabriel, he didn't show it. He merely cocked his head to one side and made a noncommittal noise. “Dunno, really. I was five, remember? I didn't know what the hell was happening. He just up and left one day. That's all I remember. Well, that and the fights my brothers got into after.”

 

“What did they fight about?”

 

Gabriel smirked and waggled a finger at him. “Ah-ah-ah, Sam. One question at a time, right?”

 

“Right...” Sam said. He stared down at his fingers for a moment before looking up at Gabriel again. “What do you wanna know, then?”

 

“What happened in that car crash?”

 

Sam winced and looked away. “That's not...ask something else.”

 

“You said a question for a question, right? A truth for a truth.”

 

“Yeah, but...I mean...” He struggled to find the right words. “The one you answered isn't worth the same as that.”

 

“Oh, really?” Gabriel asked. He seemed almost entertained. “And what, pray tell, would be?”

 

“It's not my turn to ask a question.”

 

“No, it's not...Alright, then. Tell me about that trinket you were holding onto like it was the last ark in the flood.” He nodded vaguely toward the box on the dresser, and Sam reached for it, slowly drawing the necklace out and dangling it before him. When Gabriel tried to touch it, Sam yanked it away.

 

“Don't touch it,” he commanded, “It's mine.”

 

“Okay, okay,” Gabriel held up his hands in a placating manner, “Just tell me what the deal with it is.”

 

Sam looked down at the necklace as he thought over his words. The sapphire in the middle teardrop-shaped pendant glinted in the moonlight, the chain draped over his fingers. “It was my mom's. She died when I was really little. My dad had just gotten her these earrings for their anniversary...He was going to sell them, but Dean took them instead. He was just four. He didn't know what he was doing. My dad didn't understand why he wouldn't give them back...so he let him keep them.

 

“He lost them for a while...but once, when we were getting ready to move, he found them again, and he got a couple of cheap silver chains from a craft store and put one earring on each. I don't know what he did with his...but he gave this one to me.” When he was done, Sam put the necklace back, taking the box and putting it in the drawer again. Gabriel was staring at him when he turned around once more.

 

“That's a damn sweet story, you know that?” he said. The teasing edge to his voice was still there, but softened by a dash of sincerity.

 

“Thanks,” Sam told him. “It's my turn.”

 

“So it is. But I'll tell you right now, I don't have any jewelry with sentimental value. So you can skip that question.”

 

Sam nodded and asked instead, “What are your brothers like?”

 

“Guessing that's not gonna earn me the truth about that car crash, is it?” There was no reason to lie to him, so Sam just shook his head. “So I'm just supposed to wait until you give me a question that's worth enough points? How is that fair?” Sam opened his mouth to answer, but Gabriel interrupted him. “I swear to God if you say 'life isn't fair,' I'll knock your block off.”

 

Sam closed his mouth again.

 

Gabriel leaned back and sighed without waiting for him to say anything more. “My brothers were great,” he said, the amended, “When I was little, anyway. Before everything went to shit. Michael was a pain in the ass...always following Dad wherever he went, trying to be a good little Catholic son. But he was the oldest. What do you expect? Raphael isn't much older than me. Never really took to the idea of being a big brother. I think the only reason he put up with me sometimes was because I was the only one keeping him from being the baby of the family.”

 

Gabriel scratched the back of his neck, thoughtfully, and Sam folded his hands in his lap, giving his full attention. “Lucas was the one I always thought of as my big bro, more than anyone else. He was my dad's favorite, and Michael wasn't all that thrilled about it, lemme tell ya. We used to sit out on the back porch, and he'd teach me card tricks,” He chuckled to himself, looking almost wistful for a moment before he shifted and shrugged.

 

“But after Dad left, that all stopped. Michael didn't know what to do with himself anymore without dear old Daddy to model after, so he took it out on Lucas, who took it out on everyone else. Next thing you know, he's going from being an almost straight-A student to winding up in detention near every other day.”

 

“What about you?” Sam asked.

 

“Me?” He smiled, though it wasn't the effortless upturn of the lips that Sam had seen on his face so many times before; it seemed to take almost enough effort to be painful. He ignored the fact that Sam had asked him one more question than he was due and said, “I ran away. If you can call it that, anyway. Not very many places a little kid my age could go, but I went anyway, whenever I got the chance. Once I spent the night in a public library. Hid in the periodicals section until the night staff went home.”

 

Though Gabriel was still smiling, Sam just felt as though someone was reaching through his ribs and squeezing his heart in their fist. He opened his mouth to speak, but Gabriel interrupted him before he could manage to get out any sort of sympathetic comment: “Now...I believe you owe me two answers.”

 

“Oh,” Sam blinked. “Okay.”

 

Gabriel crossed his arms and cleared his throat. “You got a girlfriend?”

 

Sam blushed a little. “No,” he said quietly.

 

“Boyfriend?”

 

“No!”

 

Again, Gabriel raised his hands. “Geez, don't have to get defensive. Just asking. I never did put much stock in whether people like dick or boobs. Both have their charms, ya know?”

 

Sam stayed silent for what felt like a long time, “So...are you...I mean...”

 

“Gay?” Gabriel finished. Sam nodded. “No. Not all the time anyway.”

 

“What does that even-”

 

“One at a time! You asked me about my brothers. What about yours?”

 

“Dean? He's four years older than me. Works at our Uncle Bobby's scrapyard. He kind of...well, he cooked my dinner for me a lot when were little. What's your favorite candy?”

 

“That's all you got?”

 

“I'm curious.”

 

“Snickers. What do you wanna do when you grow up?”

 

“I think I wanna be a lawyer.”

 

“Ew...really?”

 

“Well what do you want to do?”

 

“I'd rather not grow up if I can avoid it,” Gabriel said.

 

“And if you can't avoid it?”

 

Gabriel looked down and away, eyes tracing the white and blue stripes on Sam's bedsheets. “I haven't really decided on a backup plan yet.” He paused a moment before asking. “Have you ever had a girlfriend?”

 

“Kind of,” Sam said, pulling his knees up to his chest and letting the blanket slide off of them. “Not really...I dunno...”

 

“Now that sounds interesting. What was her name?”

 

“Amy,” Sam said, face heating up. “But it wasn't...I mean we weren't...” He rubbed the back of his neck for a moment before saying, “She kissed me.”

 

“First kiss?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Awww...” Gabriel crooned, “How sweet.”

 

“But we couldn't...I didn't see her after that...My dad...he said I couldn't.”

 

“Why? He afraid you'd get her pregnant or something?”

 

“No! But...it was right before our last move, and...he said it wasn't good to get attached.”

 

Gabriel didn't say anything to that, though Sam had been sure he'd make some joke. “You ever talk to her again? Ever try to track her down?” Sam shook her head, and Gabriel tsked. “Too bad, sasquatch. Guess sometimes the fish gets away, huh? Or you gotta leave it behind.”

 

“Guess so...” Sam relented, and he smiled at Gabriel to ease the ache in his chest. “You're behind like a million questions, you know that?”

 

“Not nearly that many. But I do owe you a few. You ready to ask me the big one yet?”

 

“What's the big one?”

 

“I dunno. You tell me.”

 

Sam thought on it for a long few seconds, and Gabriel waited patiently as he did. He wrung his hands and then finally said, “You said you ran away a lot as a kid. You coming here every summer...have you been running away this whole time too?”

 

Gabriel's eyes darkened at that, even in the dim light. He pressed his lips into a hard line and looked down at the floorboards, hands folded in his lap. He was quiet for so long, shoulders hunched and eyes downcast, that Sam started to worry that something was really wrong, but finally, he spoke again, his voice unlike Sam had ever heard it as he said, “Yes.”

 

One more long silence later, Sam said, “They were driving back from the hospital.” Gabriel perked up, attention undivided given to Sam as he took a long breath. “Dean had gotten in a fight...got kind of banged up. He was fine, but...it was raining, and it was late at night, and Dad was tired...This semi truck ran a red light, and...the car flipped over...Dean got out alright, but Dad...”

 

He stopped, chest too tight to let him continue. Gabriel merely stared, not saying a word until Sam managed to take a shaky breath and finish: “I was at Bobby's...I knew something wrong when the phone rang so late...I've never seen a look on his face like that. It was kind of like a dream...like that moment right before you wake up where you don't know how you can possibly get out of it.”

 

“But you never woke up,” Gabriel said, solemnly. Sam nodded. “When?”

 

It took Sam a long time to answer, “Five months ago.”

 

Gabriel let out a long sigh. “Shit,” he said. “Do you...do you want a hug?”

 

It was such an awkward request that Sam had to smile. “Honestly? I wouldn't mind.”

 

Gabriel wrapped his arms around him, squeezed a moment, then let go. “You gonna go back to sleep?” Sam asked him as he got up and headed back to his bed.

 

“If you are.”

 

Sam had to admit he was pretty tired. “Goodnight,” he said. It felt like the only thing he could say just then.

  
“'Night,” Gabriel replied. The springs in his own mattress squeaked as he threw himself into bed, and Sam snuggled down beneath the covers once more. Sleep came quickly, but without any dreams.


	3. Chapter 3

It was vengefully hot the next day, and Sam was sweating like crazy by one in the afternoon, despite sitting in front of the oscillating fan by the door for the past fifteen minutes without moving a muscle. He barely even noticed Gabriel coming through the door until he felt something cold press against his arm.

 

“Got you a slushie,” Gabriel said, nudging him with it. Sam glanced up at him sluggishly; his lips were stained blue, and his t-shirt was sticking to his chest, his hair tangled and messy and blowing across his forehead as the air stream from the fan blew past him. “C'mon, has the heat turned your brain to mush, or are you gonna take it?”

 

Sam did, and sipped it gratefully. God, he wished he could go for a swim, in the lake, in the pool, in a damn puddle, anything. But for the next five days, they were still barred from camp activities, and though he knew Gabriel wasn't above breaking into the pool after hours, he didn't much like the idea of getting in even more trouble and getting sent home. Bobby surely wouldn't appreciate it, and if there was any chance of him getting to come back after this summer, such a thing would wipe it from existence entirely without a doubt.

 

Gabriel lay back and stretched out on Sam's bed without so much as an attempt to ask permission, and he spread his limbs out with a sigh. “God I'm boiling...” he groaned, peeling his shirt away from his stomach with a grimace before pulling it back down. “I'm sweating through my clothes...”

 

“You can take your shirt off if you want,” Sam said around the straw sticking out of his slushie, “It wouldn't bother me.”

 

“Nah, I won't blind you with my god-like abs, sasquatch,” he patted Sam on the back before sitting up and heading back toward his own bed, sipping on his drink as he went.

 

Sam paused a moment before asking, “Do you mind if I do?”

 

“Be my guest,” Gabriel offered with a shrug, “Hell, parade around in your boxers for all I care. Doesn't make a difference to me.”

 

Sam pulled off his shirt, tossing it on his bed and leaning far to his left to follow the fan as it turned. “How come you don't swim?” he asked.

 

“Huh?”

 

“Swimming. How come you don't do it?”

 

“Cause I can't,” Gabriel said to the ceiling.

 

“Well yeah, but...how come you-”

 

“What, how come I never learned?” Gabriel pushed himself up, chin poking against his chest as he twiddled his thumbs over his stomach. Sam nodded, and Gabriel pulled the corners of his mouth down and gave a noncommittal shrug. “Just never did. I don't know why. Blame my mom for never enrolling me in swimming lessons.”

 

“But all these years coming here, and you never once had anyone try and teach you?”

 

“I just never bothered, okay? It never seemed important.”

 

“But if you don't know how to swim, they won't let you go canoeing, or tubing. How can you come to a camp called Amber Lake and not even go near the lake?”

 

“I don't give a shit about the goddamn lake, alright?” Gabriel snapped, and Sam fell silent, wrapping his lips around his straw and looking at the fan instead. He was just starting to berate himself for not dropping it when Gabriel sighed, and said, “Forget it. The heat makes me snappy. Don't take it personal.”

 

“S'okay,” Sam said quietly.

 

“Aw, now I went and hurt your feelings, didn't I?” Gabriel groaned.

 

“No, you didn't. I should have dropped it. I'm sorry.”

 

“Yeah well...” Gabriel sat up on the edge of his bed, feet tapping against the floor. “You wanna play cards or something?”

 

“Huh?”

 

“C'mon, Sam! If I don't get my mind off this heat, I'm gonna go crazy! Don't make me play solitaire all by my lonesome over here for crying out loud.” He was already on his knees and searching under his bed for a shoebox and pulling the top off. He carried it over to the middle of the room and sat down on the floor, gesturing for Sam to come over.

 

Sam brought the fan with him and placed it on the floorboards next to them before sitting across from Gabriel, cross-legged. He peeked inside the shoebox – Gabriel didn't try and stop him – and squinted as he tried to make out its contents: a few old pictures, some folded pieces of paper with writing on them – letters, Sam guessed – and a deck of cards, which Gabriel pulled out of their battered old box and started to shuffle.

 

“Who's that?” Sam asked, pointing at a picture on the top of the pile in the box. There were two people in it: one was Gabriel, though seemingly a few years younger and smiling widely, but the other was taller, older, his arm around Gabriel's shoulders and his smile more subdued, but genuine. They were both dressed in heavy coats, standing out in the snow.

 

“That?” Gabriel asked. He picked up the picture and studied it, smiling fondly. “That's Lucas. Big bro. This was...a few years ago, I think. The winter before he...” He trailed off, putting the picture down again. “Well...it was the last time we made a snowman together, anyway.”

 

Sam frowned, but didn't press as Gabriel dealt the cards, halfheartedly. “What about that one?” he asked, pulling the box toward him and pointing at another picture.

 

“Oh, just take it,” Gabriel said, rolling his eyes. He pushed the box toward Sam, taking out the pieces of paper and putting them beside his leg before he did. “If you wanna go through my photo album go right ahead.”

 

Sam did, digging through the box and taking out the picture he'd noticed before. Gabriel was very young in this one, maybe just four years old. He was on a man's shoulders, laughing as he clutched at his coat. “That your dad?”

 

Gabriel's voice sounded a little forced as he clipped out, “Yeah.” He looked down at his cards. “You got any threes- Oh, come on, you're not even looking!”

 

Sam quickly put the picture down and grabbed the cards. “I was distracted,” he said before taking a three of hearts out of his hand and giving it to Gabriel. “You guys seemed really happy.”

 

“Yep, we were. How about any sevens?”

 

“Go fish.”

 

Gabriel grunted and took a card from the pile, staring at his hand dejectedly. “Your turn.”

 

“Huh?” Sam asked. He looked up from staring at a picture of a girl; she looked to be about sixteen in the photo, with coffee-colored skin and dark hair that spilled over the back of her red tank top. She was smiling, though it was subtle, as if she were trying to look annoyed with whomever was taking the picture, but actually found them rather endearing.

 

“Your turn!” Gabriel insisted. “Do you wanna play or not?”

 

“Yeah. Um...any sevens?”

 

“You're not really good at go-fish, are you?” Gabriel deadpanned.

 

“So no sevens?”

 

“No, no sevens! I asked you about sevens already and you told me to go fuck myself.”

 

“I didn't tell you to go fuck yourself!”

 

“Go fuck yourself, go fish...it basically amounts to the same thing. I like my version better. You gonna ask about the picture or not?”

 

“Oh...” Sam looked down at it again, picking it up out of the box and handing it to Gabriel. “Who's she?”

 

Gabriel got a far off, almost wistful look in his eye, and Sam could have sworn he saw a smile tugging at his lips for a moment before he answered, “Kali.”

 

“Yeah, and...who is she?”

 

“Met her here my first year,” Gabriel said. “I was fourteen. She was sixteen. Woo...I had it bad.” He smiled, scratching the back of his neck and even blushing a bit. “We sorta...had a thing. She was my first kiss.”

 

“Really?” Sam asked, chuckling. Gabriel nodded, looking proud of himself.

 

“Uh-huh.” He leaned back and stretched, almost cat-like. “First kiss, first summer love, first time I ever got to second base...” He waggled his eyebrows, but his smile faded quickly. “But ah...well, you know how summer flings are. We went home, went our separate ways. We tried staying in touch, but what can you do?”

 

He shrugged, looking back at his cards again. “She was your first, though,” Sam offered. “That's gotta count for something.”

 

Gabriel's smile was tentative, but warm. “Yeah...I think it does.” He straightened up a bit. “You got any aces?”

 

“Go fuck yourself.”

 

Gabriel laughed until he was red in the face.

 

They spent longer than Sam cared to admit playing Go-Fish and Uno and Poker (“Got one killer poker face,” Gabriel said as they laid bets with M&M's, but he beat Sam almost every hand), and when they'd had their fill of those, Gabriel taught Sam how to play Gin Rummy.

 

It was getting dark when Sam's stomach started growling. “We never got dinner,” Sam said, frowning. “They've probably stopped serving by now.”

 

“I got just the thing,” Gabriel announced, hauling himself up off the floor. As he went over to his bed, Sam grabbed a fresh T-shirt and put it on, and by the time he looked up again, Gabriel was smiling at him with a box of Pop Tarts in his hand.

 

“How much food do you have?” Sam asked, smiling. “It's like it never ends.”

 

Gabriel shrugged, opening the box and handing a silver package to Sam. “I like to keep well-stocked. Two things to always bring plenty of to camp, sasquatch: underwear and snacks.”

 

“I hope you don't keep them in the same place.” Sam tore open the package, grinning at Gabriel as he bit off a piece of crumbly pastry.

 

They lay on their respective beds, across from each other, both facing the ceiling with their legs hanging over the edge as they ate. The silence was comfortable. “I should write home,” Sam mused quietly, more to himself than anyone else.

 

“So soon?” Gabriel asked. “You haven't even been here a week yet.”

 

“Yeah, but Dean told me to write. And I don't know how often I'm supposed to.”

 

“Whenever you feel like it.” Gabriel shrugged.

 

“What about you?”

 

“What about me?”

 

“Are you gonna write anybody?”

 

Gabriel was silent a moment before saying, “Nah.”

 

“Don't want to write your brothers or anything?”

 

“I don't know Michael's address,” Gabriel admitted. “Don't really feel like writing Raph. And Lucas is...well writing him is complicated.”

 

“How come?”

 

“It just is.” Sam got a sinking feeling that pressing the question would end badly. Before he could make any effort to change the subject, however, Gabriel added, “He'll probably write me before too long, though.”

 

“Really?” Sam looked up just as Gabriel nodded.

 

“He always writes me at camp.”

 

“Always?”

 

“Always. Every year.”

 

The only thing Sam could think to say was, “He sounds like a pretty good brother.” Gabriel let out the smallest of chuckles.

 

“Yeah...he has his share of problems. But yeah...he's always been a pretty good big bro. What about yours?”

 

“What about Dean?”

 

“Uh-huh.”

 

“I told you about him already.”

 

“Well yeah.” Gabriel sat up on his elbows and regarded him from across the room. “You told me some...but you said he took care of you a lot when you were little, right?”

 

“Yeah...our mom dying kinda hit my dad pretty hard...sometimes he wasn't around a whole lot.”

 

“I get the feeling. Absent father, remember?”

 

Sam nodded. “I mean...Dean kinda raised me in a way. After...what happened...” He took a careful breath. “...We started living with our Uncle Bobby. Dean started working for him, learning about cars and engines and stuff. He’s always liked it.”

 

“That sexy Impala his?” Gabriel asked, squinting as Sam presumed he thought back to the first day of camp.

 

“Yeah. That's his baby,” Sam said with a smile. “It was our dad’s. It was pretty messed up in the accident, but about a month after it happened, he just started working on it non-stop. Wouldn’t let anyone else touch it except for Bobby if he needed a hand with something. He finally got it all fixed up and he practically doesn’t let it out of his sight.” He laughed a bit, feeling a little lighter.

 

Gabriel smiled back, though it was a small, sly-looking little thing. It faded as he crumbled the last bit of his Pop Tart between his fingers and then brushed the crumbs off of his shirt. “I bet you could be having a lot more fun out there-” He nodded at the cabin door. “-canoeing or tubing or swimming or whatever the hell else you planned on doing while you were here. It would probably be better than being holed up in here with me.”

 

“It’s not so bad,” Sam said. Gabriel looked just the tiniest bit hopeful.

 

“Oh really now?” he asked, one eyebrow lazily arching on his brow.

 

“Yes really.” Sam shrugged. “I mean, at the very least you haven’t filled my pillow with spiders, so I’m not too worried about you pranking me.”

 

Gabriel smirked at him. “Speaking a little soon, aren’t you there, sasquatch?” Sam blanched just a bit, and Gabriel laughed, the sound of it filling the small cabin. “Aww relax. You’re safe, Sam.” He shrugged. “I don’t feel like collecting all those spiders anyway.”

 

* * *

 

They went to breakfast together the next morning; the heat had blessedly passed, or at least it had decided to take a break for the moment as they walked to the cafeteria. Sam arched an eyebrow as he watched Gabriel chug a large glass of chocolate milk just moments after they'd sat down. “You can really put that stuff away,” he said.

 

Gabriel slammed the cup down and wiped away his milk mustache with the back of his hand. “One of my many talents,” he said, stifling a belch with the back of one hand. He nodded over Sam's shoulder at a far table. “That your friend? Benny? Brandon?”

 

“Barry,” Sam corrected, nodding. He waved, and Barry waved back, engrossed in some trading card game with a group of other campers, “At least he isn't lonely.”

 

“Not jealous are you?”

 

“No! Of course not.”

 

“Okay,” Gabriel said with a shrug, “I just figured the way you stood up for him that first day, you two would be friends.”

 

“We just met when we got here. We were roommates. Well...I guess we still are, technically, after this week.” Sam sipped his orange juice, “I just don't know seeing people pick on kids smaller than them just cause they can.”

 

“See, that's what I meant when I said I wasn't a bully,” Gabriel said coolly, and Sam winced despite the fact that his tone was free of any sort of venom. Thinking back to that fight made his appetite wane a bit. “Bullies pick on people to prove they're stronger, even though it's already freaking obvious. But me...I'm not stronger than they are. I'm smarter. And that's not so obvious. Sometimes you gotta remind people how stupid they are.”

 

“That doesn't exactly sound healthy,” Sam said hesitantly.

 

“No? Has Dirk the Jerk been picking on anyone else since I introduced him to my scaly little friend?”

 

“Don't think so,” Sam spotted him, sitting by himself over by the window, shoulders hunched as he picked at his food. “He sure doesn't look happy though.”

 

“So?”

 

“Are you still mad at him for the pool thing?” Sam asked, not quite sure where the question had come from. Gabriel wrinkled his nose.

 

“Hell yeah I'm pissed about that. I could have died.”

 

“You said you would have been fine,” Sam pointed out, and Gabriel's face turned just the slightest bit pink.

 

“Well...yeah...Course I would have...but that doesn't mean it was pleasant.”

 

“No, but...I mean, right after we got sent to Cockatoo-” Gabriel snickered. “-Barry told me maybe I should...ya know...go easy on you...cause maybe you were just as upset as I was, in your own way. I didn't know anything about you. You could have been going through some shit that I had no idea was happening.”

 

“What, so you're saying instead of messing with people I should try and forgive them their trespasses?” Gabriel asked. He didn't seem at all convinced. “That's not exactly how I operate.”

 

“I just...maybe...maybe it couldn't hurt...ya know, to tell him that you aren't mad about it. I mean, if I thought I'd almost gotten somebody killed, I would be feeling pretty crappy.”

 

“I am still mad about it,” Gabriel insisted. “I'm not gonna tell someone I forgive them if I don't. I'm a prankster, Sam. Not a liar.” Sam pursed his lips at him. “Okay, maybe I can be a damn good liar when I need to, but I try not to make it a habit.”

 

Sam sighed and went back to his breakfast; this was going nowhere, he quickly realized. “Just...think about it? Maybe.”

 

“Okay.” He looked up toward the ceiling for a few moments. “Alright, thought about it. Done now. And it's not happening.” Gabriel huffed and picked up a french toast stick, shoving it in his mouth.

 

“Fine,” Sam said with a roll of his eyes. It was worth a shot at least, he supposed.

 

“Mail call!” Both of them looked up as Chuck came inside, toting a messenger bag full of envelopes. He scratched at his shoulder through his shirt and winced before starting to pass out letters. When he came to their table, Gabriel grinned at him, and Chuck gave him a tight-lipped look before handing him an envelope pinched between his index and middle finger. Gabriel took it and studied the front, his smile fading fast into an expression that Sam couldn't read.

 

“Gabe?” Sam asked, leaning in close. “You okay?”

 

Gabriel didn't even bother to correct the choice of name, nor did he take his tray back to the kitchen as before heading toward the door. “I'm going back to the cabin,” was all he said.

 

Sam watched him go, blinking in confusion and not getting up to follow. He hadn't seen a name or a return address, so he had no idea who that letter was from, but Gabriel obviously did. What it meant, Sam couldn't even begin to guess.

 

He was about to leave when he saw Dirk get up before him, eyes downcast and gate shuffling. It was a pose that Sam had seen before, plenty of times, and one he'd adopted himself more than he'd cared to admit. He didn't look up at Sam as he went to the kitchen with his tray in his hands, his food barely touched. Sam took a breath, glanced back at the door, and then headed toward him.

 

“Hey,” he said. “Dirk.” Dirk flinched, and Sam frowned. “How...how are you?”

 

“What's it to you, twerp?” Dirk spat.

 

“I just...Ga- Trickster wanted me to tell you something?”

 

Dirk's expression became pained at those words. “What?”

 

“He wanted me to tell you that...you guys are cool.”

 

“What?”

 

“You're cool. You two. I mean...that whole pool thing. He's not mad.”

 

“Seriously?” Dirk asked, his tone softer now. Sam smiled at him.

 

“Yeah. He didn't want you to feel bad about it. I mean, it was a dick move, pushing him like that, but you couldn't have known he couldn't swim...”

 

Dirk looked down at the floor, admitting softly, “I thought he was gonna die...I didn't know what to do...And then you just jumped in like that. Like it was nothing. How could you do that?”

 

Sam shrugged. “I don't really know. It just sorta happened. Anyway...it's okay now. He just...wanted me to tell you that.”

 

“Okay.” Then Dirk did something that Sam never would have expected: he smiled, and said, “Thank you.”

 

Sam went back to his tray, sitting down again to finish his breakfast before heading back to the cabin. As he watched, Dirk headed for the door, but hesitated, turning back toward Barry and his friends. For a moment, Sam's heart skipped as Dirk went over to them, and he could almost see Barry's do the same when he noticed, but Dirk scratched his arm almost sheepishly, and Sam overheard him ask, “Could I play?”

 

Barry scooted over and let him sit.

 

* * *

 

Gabriel was nowhere to be found when Sam got back to the cabin, but the letter was unfolded on his bed, the envelope haphazardly ripped open on the floor. Sam glanced at it, and before he could stop himself, his eyes tracked over the first few sentences:

 

_Hey little bro. Wish I could write you with better news, but it looks like my parole hearing got pushed back again, so I'm not going to be able to be there when you get back-_

 

No...no, he shouldn't be reading that. It was none of his business. He tore his eyes away, and no sooner had he done so than he heard a soft sniffle coming from the bathroom.

 

“Gabriel?” he called, taking a few hesitant steps toward the door. It was open a crack, and another muffled sniffle came from inside as he pushed it open.

 

Gabriel was sitting on the closed lid of the toilet, holding one hand close to his chest. Tears stained his cheeks, and he sniffed again before glaring at him. “Get out,” he spat.

 

“Gabr-”

 

“I said get out!”

 

Sam looked down at Gabriel's white T-shirt. There were a few red spots on it that definitely hadn't been there before. “You're bleeding,” he said plainly.

 

Gabriel looked away and held his hand closer to his body. “It's nothing.”

 

“What did you do?” Sam went over to him, kneeling in front of him. Gabriel turned his body to the side and didn't meet his gaze.

 

“Nothing, okay? I got mad about my stupid brother not getting his stupid parole hearing and I might have punched a wall.”

 

“You punched a wall?”

 

“Yeah, it was dumb, alright?”

 

“Why?”

 

“I don't know! I was mad! I'm still mad! He was supposed to be there when I got home, and...” He sighed, heavily, squeezing his eyes shut tight. “He was supposed...to be there...” His lip quivered, and Sam's chest tightened in sympathy as a few tears slipped down Gabriel's cheek.

 

He reached for Gabriel's arm. “Lemme see...”

 

“What, you have your first aid badge with the Scouts or something?”

 

“Just let me see,” Sam said, more firmly. Gabriel huffed and winced, but he pulled his hand away from his chest, letting Sam gingerly run his fingers over the knuckles; they were red and swollen, and the skin was broken in a couple of places, though the bleeding seemed to have slowed to a near stop. “Can you...can you move it?” Sam asked, feeling a little helpless. Slowly, grimacing as he did so, Gabriel stretched his fingers and then tightened them into a fist.

 

“S'not broken...” Gabriel offered. “I've broken my hand before, and I know what it feels like.”

 

“Did you punch a wall that time too?”

 

“No!” Gabriel paused a moment, looking sheepish. “It was a car door.” Sam arched an eyebrow at him. “Someone bet me I couldn't dent it, and I'm a very proud guy, sasquatch.”

 

“Obviously,” Sam said, suppressing a laugh. The corner of Gabriel's mouth twitched, just a bit, but his expression darkened again far too quickly. “You need some ice or something...”

 

“I need someone to break my brother out of prison is what I need,” Gabriel said bitterly, and Sam looked up at him. “But I guess ice'll have to do for now.”

 

* * *

 

They sat beside each other on the bench outside the infirmary for longer than should have ever been comfortable, but somehow, the silence never became awkward. They stared out at the lake, Gabriel holding a bag of ice against his poor abused hand and kicking up dirt with the heels of his sneakers. He hissed as he took the bag off to look down at his fingers and flex them.

 

“Okay?” Sam asked.

 

“Better. My knuckles still sting like a motherfucker though.” He picked at the bandages over the cracked skin.

 

“Just don't go punching anymore walls and I think you'll be fine.”

 

Gabriel chuckled at that. “Yeah...” They drifted off into silence again, Gabriel staring at his shoelaces until he spoke again: “It wasn't his fault...Well, maybe it was, but not entirely.”

 

“Your brother?” Sam asked, quietly. Gabriel nodded. “Was he the one who wrote you the letter?” Another nod. Sam faced forward again, folding his hands in his lap. “How long is he...”

 

“Locked up?” Gabriel offered.

 

“Well...yeah, I guess.”

 

“He's halfway through a three year sentence.” Gabriel shrugged. “Thought for sure he'd get off on parole...I thought he'd be home by the time I got back, but...guess not...”

 

Sam didn't know how to ask the next part, but it slipped out anyway: “What...what did he...”

 

“What's he in for?” Gabriel finished again. Sam nodded. “Kidnapping.”

 

“W...What?” Sam sputtered. “Who did he-”

 

Gabriel actually grinned at that, though a little sadly. “Me.” Sam just stared at him. “Oh, come on! Not like that! Jesus, Sam, your mind goes dark places when you let it wander, you know that?” He nudged Sam in the arm before hunching over again and pressing the ice bag to his hand with a grimace.

 

“He was leaving,” he said, softly. “Packing up for good. The minute he turned eighteen, he headed for the door. Couldn't take the constant fighting, he said. Honestly, I would have done the same thing if I could...” He lifted the bag and looked down at his hand, flexing his fingers a few times. “But I couldn't...I couldn't watch him go, sasqatch. I might have been young when it happened, but I'd already seen my dad walk out. I didn't...I didn't want...”

 

“You didn't want to see him leave too,” Sam finished for him, and Gabriel swallowed thickly and bobbed his head.

 

“I begged him to take me with him.” A bitter laugh punched its way out of Gabriel's chest. “Wouldn't let it drop until he said alright. But of course when my mom found out...She called the police, and we hadn't gotten very far, so they found us easy. We were pulled over on the side of some highway late at night, and he turned to me and said, 'No matter what happens, this was my idea, you got it?'

 

“Course, I was just fifteen...there was nothing I could do. And like an idiot I said alright...He got three years behind bars, and I couldn't do shit about it.” He straightened up, glaring out at the lake as if the act of doing so could stop the tears in his eyes from falling.

 

“It seems like he cared a lot about you,” Sam offered.

 

“Course he does,” Gabriel insisted. His voice was rough, and he wiped his nose with the back of his good hand. “What kind of big brother wouldn't?”

 

Sam wasn't quite sure what to say. That it wasn't his fault? If Gabriel believed it was, Sam telling him otherwise wasn't going to convince him. And telling Gabriel that it was alright, that his brother would be home again before too long regardless of whether or not he got out on parole just seemed cold. So instead he looked him over for a moment, waiting for Gabriel to meet his gaze before he asked, “Do you want a hug?”

 

Gabriel smiled. It was a shy little thing. Slowly, he leaned his body against Sam's side, letting Sam put an arm around him.

 

The first raindrop fell onto Sam's nose and made him wrinkle it and cross his eyes to look, and by the time he realized what it was and looked up toward the sky, more were already falling, fat and messy, on their shoulders. By the time they stood up, the heavens opened, and muttered curses and shouts did nothing to keep them dry as they ran back to the cabin with their arms covering their heads.

 

They were soaked by the time they made it back, clothes sticking to their bodies and hair weighed down in their faces. Sam leaned against the door, listening to the rain come down in sheets on the roof and feeling a smile slip onto his face. He was laughing before he knew what to do with himself, and to his surprise and delight, Gabriel joined in as he flopped down on the bed.

 

“Guess the rain gods are fans of sappy sob stories, huh?” he said. Sam shook out his hair and grabbed some dry clothes.

 

“You're getting your sheets wet,” he told Gabriel as he went to the bathroom and grabbed a towel. He threw it at Gabriel's face.

 

“Aww, whatever...” But Gabriel did get up, spreading the towel on the bed before lying back down on it.

 

Sam started to peel off his T-shirt before pausing. “Don't look for a second, okay?”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because I need to change.”

 

Gabriel scoffed. “Like I'm gonna look...go to the bathroom if you're so shy.”

 

“It's cramped in there,” Sam complained as he unzipped his pants and pulled them off, adding them to the messy heap of wet clothes in the middle of the floor. Gabriel dutifully had one arm slung over his eyes, though Sam could almost feel him rolling them at him.

 

“Course it's cramped for you...all tall with those lanky limbs of yours...”

 

Sam dressed quickly, and Gabriel, to his credit, didn't peek. Though he was relatively dry and toweling off his hair, Gabriel still hadn't moved. “You gonna change out of those?” Sam asked him. “You're gonna get sick or something if you don't.

 

Gabriel groaned and hauled himself off the bed, grabbing some clean clothes and heading for the bathroom. “Yes, mother,” he quipped before closing the door behind him.

 

* * *

 

It rained all day, and neither of them had any desire to go out into the storm when lunchtime rolled around, so they finished the last of the Pop Tarts instead of making the perilous trek to the cafeteria. But by the time dinner came around, Sam was starving, his stomach growling insistently the entire walk over. Thankfully, the rain had subsided for the moment, though the clouds above them still looked plenty threatening.

 

Sam wrapped his arms around his midsection and groaned. “So...hungry...”

 

“You sure have one hell of an appetite, don't you?” Gabriel said, grinning.

 

“I had Pop Tarts and gummy worms for lunch. I need some real food.”

 

“Wait, you took some of my gummy worms?” Gabriel glared at him.

 

“Um...” Sam scratched the back of his neck. “Just a few.”

 

“You do realize I could end you for that, right?”

 

“It was just two or three!”

 

“Too late, sasquatch. You've invoked the wrath of the Trickster!” He punched Sam lightly in the side – unfortunately for him, though, it was with his injured hand, and he winced. “Ow...”

 

“That's what you get,” Sam chuckled.

 

“Shut up...”

 

Sam ate three helpings of pizza and was pleasantly full as they walked back to the cabin again. The rain picked up once more just as they got through the door, and Sam sat on his bed and watched it fall as Gabriel lay sprawled on the floor with a pen in his hand.

 

“What are you doing?” Sam asked.

 

“Writing.”

 

“What?”

 

“A letter.”

 

“To your brother?”

 

Gabriel was silent for a long moment before saying, softly, ”Yeah.”

 

Sam smiled at him. “You mention me?”

 

“Why the hell would I mention you?” Gabriel asked, rolling his eyes, but his tone was playful, and he was grinning as he spoke. “What would you like me to say? 'Dear Lucas, today I met a really cute boy. Still holding out hope he'll ask me to the homecoming dance...'”

 

“You think I'm cute?” Sam asked with a lopsided smirk. Gabriel, to his surprise, actually blushed as he looked down at his paper.

 

“In a shaggy stray puppy sort of way,” he finally said.

 

Sam shrugged, “I guess I'll take it.”

 

When Gabriel was done, he folded the paper and dropped it on his bed before getting up and sitting next to Sam. They watched the rain together in silence for a few moments before Gabriel's gaze wandered down the necklace in Sam's hands. Sam was absently running his thumb over the pendent, almost having forgotten he had it at all.

 

“It's beautiful,” Gabriel said, and Sam blinked a few times as he snapped out of his semi-trance.

 

“What? Oh...” He closed a loose fist around the necklace. “Yeah.”

 

“Was she?”

 

“My mom?” he asked, causing Gabriel to nod, “Yeah...I mean, from the pictures I've seen anyway.”

 

“You really never met her?” Gabriel asked, sadly.

 

“I did. I just don't remember it.”

 

“Yeah, well...” Gabriel folded his hands in his lap. “For what it's worth, I do remember my dad, but that doesn't really make him being gone hurt any less. I mean, I guess he's not dead, but still...”

 

They watched the rain together in silence. It was starting to slow a bit, pattering on the ceiling and windows in a calming sort of monotonous rhythm. “You're seventeen, right?” Sam asked.

 

“Uh-huh.”

 

“I thought...you couldn't be a camper here after you turned eighteen...”

 

Gabriel was quiet for a long time before saying, “That's right.”

 

“So...this is your last year?”

 

“Yep.”

 

Gabriel didn't look at him. He stared out the window, heels knocking against the bed frame in time with the pattering on the roof. “Oh...” was all Sam said, suddenly feeling far too sad. “Maybe...you could come back as a counselor in training or something.”

 

“Oh please,” Gabriel scoffed. “Could you really see me as a counselor?”

 

“Kinda, yeah,” That seemed to take him by surprise.

 

“I doubt they'd have me anyway,” he said after a moment. “Not if Chuck has anything to say about it. Besides...I can't keep clinging to this place forever. I gotta leave one way or another.”

 

“Still...” Sam offered, putting the necklace on his dresser. “Must kinda suck being stuck in the detention cabin for a third of your time here, huh?”

 

“Nah...it's been pretty fun, actually.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Yeah...” Gabriel dug the heels of his hands into the mattress, crossing his ankles and fidgeting a little, “I mean, I've done almost everything at this camp. I've been on the hikes, and I've gone to the campfires, and I've done more archery than I can even remember. And don't get me wrong, those things are fun, but...I mean...I've liked...spending time with you, sasquatch.”

 

He tucked a stray strand of sandy hair behind one ear, and even in the dim light of the cabin, Sam could have sworn he saw Gabriel blush. “I like spending time with you too,” he said with a warm smile.

 

And that's when Gabriel kissed him.

 


	4. Chapter 4

Sam sat there, not moving, not quite processing the fact that Gabriel had his lips pressed against his own until he had already pulled away, staring at him a bit breathlessly. Gabriel bit his lips, tangling his fingers together and twiddling his thumbs. “You gonna say something?” he asked, and Sam realized just how long he'd been sitting there, utterly silent.

 

“I'm...” he managed to choke out, “Did you just...”

 

“Kiss you? Yeah. Kinda.”

 

“Oh...” Sam said. He stared out the window. The rain had stopped completely now, the leaves on the trees outside dripping onto the sill.

 

“Oh?” Gabriel scoffed, his voice shaking a little, “That's all you can say? Oh?”

 

Sam stood, stumbling over toward the door before he even knew what he was doing, “I gotta...I need to go...”

 

“What?” Gabriel was standing as well, stepping toward him.

 

“I just need...I wanna go for a second...”

 

“Wait, sasquatch, don't- Shit, Sam, forget it. Forget it, alright? It never happened,” Gabriel's voice sounded so pained and worn thin. Sam hated hearing it that way, but he tripped out the door anyway, almost falling down the steps down the hill before managing to right himself. He didn't look back as he stumbled through the mud, the cool evening air making goose bumps erupt on his skin, or maybe that was thanks to the memory of the way Gabriel had tasted against his lips...

 

It was dark out, but somehow he managed to make it down to the lake, cutting straight through the trees instead of taking the winding path around the other cabins. He came to the canoes, stacked by the water, and he leaned against them, sitting down in the mud and not caring how it got his shorts dirty and wet. He hid his face in his hands.

 

He didn't know how long he sat there, thinking that he was surely about to break down and cry, though the tears never actually came. He ran his hands through his hair and stared at the trees until he heard a faint scuffling noise above him and looked up. Gabriel stared down at him from on top of one of the canoes.

 

“Jesus!” Sam cried as he jumped. Gabriel hopped down next to him. “How are you so good at that?”

 

“At what?” Gabriel asked as he sat beside him.

 

“At sneaking up on people.”

 

Gabriel shrugged, “I am the Trickster.” He sighed, wrapping his arms around his knees, “So...that was stupid.”

 

“What was?”

 

“You know what. The whole...kiss thing...I don't know what I was thinking, alright? It was dumb.”

 

Sam stayed silent for a moment before saying, “I shouldn't have run away-” Gabriel held up a hand to stop him.

 

“Forget it, Sam. I get it. It's fine,” he frowned at the dirt, “It never happened.”

 

When Sam finally spoke again, his voice was so small that it hardly even sounded like his own, even to him, “I've never...kissed another guy before.”

 

Gabriel groaned, “Fuck...Really? No, I guess that's not surprising...Damn, and here I am sending you into some big gay panic...Look, don't worry about it, Sam. I won't...It won't happen again. I promise.”

 

Sam hugged his knees tighter toward him, “I kind of liked it.”

 

“Really?” Gabriel asked, sounding equal parts hopeful and worried. Sam nodded mutely. “Well...are you...”

 

“I don't know...,” Sam felt like someone was reaching between his ribs and squeezing his guts until he could barely breathe, “I guess I...kinda wondered...I mean I like girls, but...”

 

“But...?” Gabriel questioned, one eyebrow arching lazily. Sam swallowed.

 

“Maybe not...just girls...”

 

Gabriel's expression was devoid of any teasing smirk or playful gleam in the eye when he said, “There's nothing wrong with that, Sam.”

 

“I know. I know...I just...” He licked his lips, wondering what it would be like to kiss him again. Really kiss him, without having to worry about finding a quick escape route after.

 

Gabriel tilted his head up a bit, as if sensing what Sam craved. “You...wanna try again?” he asked tentatively and Sam could have sworn he sounded nervous. He found himself nodding, and Gabriel leaned in, but Sam put a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

 

When Gabriel looked at him questioningly, Sam said, “I wanna do it.” Gabriel rolled his eyes.

 

“Fine,” he said, crossing his arms stubbornly, “You do it.”

 

Sam leaned in, closed his eyes, and covered Gabriel's lips with his own.

 

Gabriel relaxed almost instantly, arms coming up to wrap around Sam's shoulders to pull him closer. Sam was muddy and wet, and the buzzing in his head rivaled that of the cicadas around them, but he smiled against Gabriel's mouth anyway, lips parting instinctively when Gabriel's tongue darted out to brush against his skin.

 

It was far from perfect; Sam was inexperienced and his heart was pounding so hard that he was shaking, making his hands clumsy and his lips even more so, but Gabriel didn't seem to mind the fact that it was a messy and slightly mediocre kiss at best. He giggled as they parted, his face just as red as Sam knew his own was.

 

“You could use a little practice,” he said with a warm smile. Sam chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his neck and getting mud in his hair.

 

“Yeah...I know. Sorry.”

 

“Aw, c'mon, sasquatch. Nobody's a good kisser right from the get-go.” He nudged his arm playfully, and they relaxed back against the canoes, their thighs just barely brushing. Gabriel ran his fingers lightly over Sam's knee. “And it really wasn't that bad, for what it's worth.”

 

“Heh...thanks.” They sat in silence for a bit, reveling in the coolness of the air and the chirp of the crickets. Sam looked back at the lake, the moon just starting to peek out from behind the clouds and reflect on its calm surface. “Do you think you'd ever like to learn to swim?”

 

Gabriel shrugged. “I dunno.” He paused, took a breath, pressed his lips together for a long moment before saying, “Lucas was supposed to teach me.”

 

“Before he...ya know.” Gabriel nodded.

 

“It sounds stupid, but I guess I just didn't think it felt right learning from someone else.”

 

He sat there drawing vague designs in the mud for a few minutes before Sam said, “I could teach you.”

 

“You?” Gabriel asked.

 

“Yeah.” He nodded toward the water. “Now.”

 

“Now?”

 

“Why not?”

 

Gabriel sputtered. “I mean...in the lake?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“We could get in trouble.”

 

“Since when do you care?”

 

“I don't! But I don't exactly like the idea of getting sent home early.”

 

Sam stood, holding out his hand. “Nobody's around. And I won't tell.”

 

“What if I drown or something?” Gabriel asked, his voice cracking a bit.

 

“We won't go deep. I won't let you drown, I promise.”

 

Gabriel opened and closed his mouth a few times, looking nervously between Sam and the water. Any more excuses died on his lips. Finally, he sighed. “What the hell?” he said, and Sam grinned and started taking off his shirt, and Gabriel eyed him warily. “You're not thinking what I think you're thinking, are you?”

 

“What?” Sam asked, shirt hanging off one arm.

 

“Despite what you might think of me, sasquatch, I don't do the whole skinny-dipping thing.” Gabriel crossed his arms defensively over his chest.

 

Sam grinned at him. “I wasn't getting naked. Just take off your shirt and shoes.”

 

Gabriel tugged at his T-shirt. “My shirt...really?”

 

“It'll be easier without it. You don't want it dragging you down.”

 

“Yeah, but...” He made a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat.

 

Sam reached out and touched his arm. “What's the matter?”

 

“I mean...” His eyes wandered up and down Sam's lean chest and stomach. “All those gummy worms gotta go somewhere, you know?” Sam smiled at him.

 

“Don't tell me you're insecure. You?”

 

“Shut up!” Gabriel tugged at his shirt, stretching it down over his thighs. “I'm not insecure. I can take my damn shirt off. Just...turn around.”

 

“Wh-”

 

“I said turn around like a damn gentleman, you yeti.” Sam suppressed a chuckle as he turned, kicking off his shoes and pulling off his socks and wading into the water. It was cold, and he winced for a moment before taking a breath and diving right in, coming up and pushing his hair from his face. Gabriel was still on the shore, the water lapping over his bare feet when Sam looked back at him. Honestly, he didn't know what Gabriel was worried about; he was a little soft around the middle, sure, but he carried it well.

 

“It's fucking freezing!” Gabriel whined as he waded in up to his waist. “You sure about this?” Sam reached for him and nodded.

 

“C'mon,” he said.

 

Gabriel grumbled and took his hand, and Sam pulled him out a little farther, until he was up to his shoulders. Immediately, Gabriel's arms were tight around him, his legs kicking beneath the water. “Fuck...Fuck! I can't touch here!”

 

“I can,” Sam said calmly. “Relax.”

 

“Yeah, that's easy for you to say, tall guy.” He held Sam tighter, and Sam flushed just a bit.

 

“Just take a breath.” Gabriel did, albeit a rather shaky one. “It's not hard...babies can do it.”

 

“Do I look like a baby to you?” Gabriel asked, shooting him a halfhearted glare. Slowly, Sam loosened his grip on Gabriel's waist. “What're you doing?”

 

“Just kick.”

 

“Don't you dare-”

 

“C'mon, just kick.” Sam let go, still staying within easy reach, and Gabriel let out a cry before slipping down into the water, just barely able to keep his head above water. He gasped and spat out a mouthful. “I've got you. Just kick. Come on!”

 

Slowly, he seemed to get the hang of it. His breath came in unsteady, shallow gasps, but he did manage to keep his mouth above the surface, clumsily paddling toward him. Sam grinned. “You son of a bitch,” he rasped. “You let me go.”

 

“But you're swimming aren't you?” That almost seemed to take Gabriel by surprise.

 

“If you can call this swimming...” he mumbled, and Sam laughed.

 

They floated together for what felt like a long time, and Gabriel quickly got the hang of the whole swimming thing. By the time they made their way back to the shore, he was gliding easily through the water, effortlessly holding his head above the surface and even diving down once or twice to wet his hair.

 

They were quiet as they headed back to the cabin, careful not to get caught with their wet clothes clutched in their arms as they ran barefoot through the grass and mud. They were laughing and red in the face when they made it through the door.

 

They put on dry clothes, not bothering to turn on the lights as they crawled into bed, both cuddling together under Sam's sheets. They didn't discuss it, didn't even have to ask. There was a slight chill in the air from all the rain, and it just felt natural to sleep next to another warm body.

 

“I really miss my brothers,” Gabriel admitted quietly long after Sam had thought he'd drifted off to sleep. “I mean...I miss how they used to be before...”

 

Sam didn't say anything, just gently grabbed Gabriel's hand beneath the sheets and gave it a squeeze. He fell silent, and not long after that, Sam heard his breathing fall into a deep, even rhythm. He followed not long after.

 

* * *

 

“No.”

 

Gabriel just smirked at him and Sam did his best to hide the fact that his heart was pounding out of his chest behind a hard glare. But Gabriel saw right through him. “No,” he said again.

 

“C'mon, sasquatch!” Gabriel said nudging him in the side with his elbow. “First day with all your camp privileges back intact. Don't you want to take advantage of it?”

 

“I was just gonna go canoeing...” Sam mumbled.

 

Gabriel rolled his eyes at him. “Canoeing is boring on its own and compared to this, it's just a full-on snooze fest.” He grinned and poked Sam in the ribs. “Come ooooon! You know you wanna!”

 

“No I don't!”

 

“Winchester.” They both looked up as Chuck walked over, a clip board in his hands. “It's your turn if you still want to go.” Sam swallowed thickly, but Gabriel wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

 

“Course he wants to go,” he said breezily. “He wants to fly, dontcha, Sam?”

 

“I...”

 

He looked up at the swing and back down again, meeting Chuck's gaze and chewing his lip. “Okay...”

 

He was cinched and secured in the harness, his knuckles white as he gripped onto the cord that connected him to the pulley at the top of the swing. Chuck tugged at the buckles and clips, making sure they were secure. “You know we're really sorry about the poison oak thing...” Sam said sheepishly as Chuck double-checked the cord.

 

“That? Aw, it's nothing,” Chuck said with a smile. “I've been dealing with Trickster over there for years. Not really used to him having an accomplice, though.”

 

Sam blushed a bit as Chuck eyed him. “Not really an accomplice...and why do you call him that?”

 

“Call him what?”

 

“Trickster. I mean...I know it's what he goes by, but it's not his real name.”

 

Chuck shrugged. “Kinda fits him, don't you think?”

 

“Yeah,” Sam said, looking over at Gabriel, who gave him an enthusiastic thumbs-up, “Kinda.”

 

Chuck patted him on the shoulder. “Ready to go up?” Sam gulped and nodded. “Alright.” He reached down and guided Sam's hand to a blue clip on the harness, by his leg. “Once you're up there, you gotta release yourself, alright? Nobody down here can do it for you. You pull on this one, and this one only. One good tug, and it'll go, okay?”

 

Again, Sam nodded.

 

The cord went taught after Chuck stepped away, and he grabbed onto it as he was hoisted up, up, and up, higher and higher until he could see the whole camp from where he was hanging between the poles. His heart was pounding so fast he thought it would burst right out of his chest and go plummeting to the ground.

 

Before he knew it, he was at the top, staring down at the tiny dots who were the other campers and counselors. Gabriel waved at him – Sam could barely make him out – and cupped his hands around his mouth. “No clowns up there, right, sasquatch?” he yelled, and Sam had to laugh, though it came out sounding a little hysterical.

 

He fumbled for the blue clip, the metal brushing cold against his fingers when he found it. One good tug...that's all he needed. Not so hard. Everything between him and free fall in the palm of his very own hand.

 

He'd never been able to boast so much control before. Suddenly the height seemed no more intimidating than a hop off the sidewalk.

 

Alright, maybe that wasn't entirely true, but he didn't give himself any time to second-guess his new-found confidence before he pulled the clip, and suddenly, he was flying.

 

He never let go of the cord clutched in his tight-gripping fingers, never let out a sound as he fell, swinging between the poles with the wind whipping through his hair. His toes curled in his sneakers, as if that alone could keep them from flying off. It didn't keep one of them from slipping off his foot on the third swing. It fell down to earth and landed with a dull thunk on the grass below.

 

He was shaking and breathless by the time he came to a stop and Chuck came over to free him from the harness, but he was smiling so hard it almost hurt. “How'd it feel?” Chuck asked him.

 

Sam wiggled his toes, pouting. “I lost my shoe.” He hopped out of the harness when it was undone and Gabriel was already holding the sneaker out to him.

 

“See? Fun, isn't it?”

 

“That's one word for it.”

 

Gabriel held out a hand, easily taking Sam's in his when his shoe was tied again, “So, wanna go make out?”

 

Sam giggled and linked their arms together, “Hell yeah.”

 

He heard Chuck choke softly before they headed off, but the counselor was smiling and laughing to himself when he turned to look at him again.

 

* * *

 

It seemed like Sam blinked and they found themselves at the last campfire. It was a pleasantly cool night, and the mosquitoes left them blessedly alone as campers and counselors roasted marshmallows over the flames. Sam looked across the fire pit at Barry, who waved with a big smile from his new-found group of friends, which now included Dirk. Chuck had managed to avoid getting any more poison oak rashes, but he wasn't so apt at keeping his marshmallows from falling off of his stick and into the fire. He went through three before deciding to just eat a piece of chocolate between two graham crackers instead.

 

Gabriel sat down next to him and held his own stick over the fire, three marshmallows expertly skewered on its end. He nudged Sam in the arm playfully. “Not craving a s'more, sasquatch?” Sam just shrugged.

 

“Not really.”

 

Gabriel pulled the stick back and squeezed one of the marshmallows on its end before holding it back over the fire. “What's eatin' ya?”

 

“Nothing's eating me.”

 

“Oh c'mon. Something's definitely eating you. I can tell. Come on. Out with it.”

 

Sam sighed, folding his hands in his lap and staring down at them, tracking the shadows and highlights the fire cast on his knees as it danced. “Just...you said after what happened with Kali...you two never really talked much again. That you just sort of fell out of touch.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Well, I guess...is that gonna happen to us?”

 

Gabriel frowned, “What makes you think it will?”

 

“It is a summer fling, remember?” Sam said with a sad smile.

 

“No!” Gabriel turned to face him, knees brushing against Sam's thighs. “It's not a fling, sasquatch! It's...it's a...well, I don't know what to call it, but...here-” He got up and went over to the other side of the fire, nabbing the pen that was sticking out of Chuck's pocket right off of his person and bringing it back. He pulled Sam's arm toward him, scrawling something on his skin.

 

“What's that?” Sam asked.

 

“My address,” Gabriel said as he wrote. “And phone number. And a smiley face.” He drew one right under the numbers, and Sam twisted his arm awkwardly to read them before his eyes grew wide.

 

“Sioux Falls?” he gaped. “You live in Sioux Falls?”

 

Gabriel raised one eyebrow at him. “Well yeah. What's it to ya?”

 

“I live just outside of it. Well...it's kind of in the middle of nowhere, but...it's not that far at all. Gabriel, why didn't you tell me?”

 

“You never asked,” Gabriel said with a smirk as he booped Sam on the nose, “And that's Trickster to you, sasquach.”

 

He pulled his marshmallows off the fire and squished two between a pair of graham crackers with a slab of chocolate, giving the third to Sam to make his own treat. It was the best s'more Sam had ever tasted.

 

**End.**


End file.
